tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-49567831675160823902017-11-22T10:32:37.485-08:00DVDBlu ReviewChristopher Longhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05964148369227874063noreply@blogger.comBlogger202125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4956783167516082390.post-58916401195193693252017-11-19T21:14:00.000-08:002017-11-19T21:14:24.193-08:00Jabberwocky<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-fy6oJayz860/WhJkLmYvR_I/AAAAAAAACEY/GVDrq-x1UaA8OkXdrE21HxNhmcCqFwtDQCLcBGAs/s1600/jabberwockycap1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="252" data-original-width="448" height="225" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-fy6oJayz860/WhJkLmYvR_I/AAAAAAAACEY/GVDrq-x1UaA8OkXdrE21HxNhmcCqFwtDQCLcBGAs/s400/jabberwockycap1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><b>JABBERWOCKY</b> (Gilliam, 1977)</div><div style="text-align: center;">Criterion Collection, Blu-ray, Release Date Nov 21, 2017</div><div style="text-align: center;">Review by Christopher S. Long</div><br /> <div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Human beings are tautly-stretched sacks of blood and puss who spend most of their day consuming and excreting matter, just eating, pissing, farting, and crapping their short lives away. That appears to be Terry Gilliam's primary thesis in “Jabberwocky” (1977), and even if you're in the minority who stubbornly disputes such an obvious claim, his first solo film as director provides ample evidence to support it.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">When the film's protagonist, Dennis Cooper (Michael Palin), a simple villager named for his family occupation (Cooper, not Dennis, I mean), sets to wooing his sweetheart Griselda (Annette Badland), she responds to his tender entreaties by gnawing on a rotten potato, scratching her ass, and unleashing the occasional bum blast. Griselda's father, Mr. Fishfinger (Warren Mitchell), also conducts a blithely casual conversation with young Dennis while taking a equally casual dump out of a window and into the polluted water below.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">When Dennis sets out, quite accidentally, to become a hero and slay the mysterious and menacing Jabberwocky that terrifies the countryside, he plunges knee-deep into mountains of dung and wakes up to a drive-by golden shower or two. Meanwhile, King Bruno the Questionable (Max Wall) orders a glorious joust to determine a champion to fight the Jabberwocky, and the results of each heroic battle are depicted primarily by the various fluids spattered on the onlookers. Robert Bresson may have dealt a fatal blow to chivalry a few years earlier with “Lancelot du Lac” (1974), but Gilliam took great pleasure in dropping by to crap on its corpse. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Any adaptation of Lewis Carroll's “Jabberwocky” would necessarily be a loose one, but Gilliam actually works in much of the poem's text into his film and ultimately delivers a genuine monster “with eyes of flame.” Hero Dennis Cooper is not, however, a particularly “beamish boy” unless “beamish” means “a colossally dull bean-counter.”</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Portrayed with as little personality as possible by Palin, Dennis embodies another horrifying aspect of humanity beyond their oozing, stinking bodies: a relentlessly unimaginative obsession with profit margins. Dennis's father (Paul Curran) takes great pride in crafting quality barrels, in loving and respecting the wood he works with, and is mortified to learn that his son can see nothing but the opportunity to cut corners in the name of competitive business. Alas, Dennis is more in tune with his times than dear old dad. The nobles and businessmen of the utterly wretched city to which Dennis ventures to make his fortune are in no great hurry to eliminate the Jabberwocky. The threat of having all their flesh flayed from their skeletons keeps the peasants at home, and thus willing to work for lower wages, and the general chill even sparks a bull market in commodities.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Gilliam surely selected a pre-sanitation medieval setting to emphasize the filth, but the film's depiction of the squalid state of humanity has a timeless quality. Give them a few centuries and these miserable wretches will be spewing their filth into the atmosphere. A few years after that, the corporate machinery of Gilliam's “Brazil” (1985) would be run by a legion of paper-pushing Dennis Coopers, and dreamers are about as welcome in the society of “Jabberwocky” as in “Brazil.” Aside from Dennis's father, nobody here seeks or even imagines a better way of life because, quite frankly, they don't deserve and aren't capable of anything better. You are what you shit. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">“Jabberwocky” manifests the expected unevenness of a first film. It's phenomenal at depicting the grotesque (special shutout to Annette Badland for gamely embracing her caricatured role) but it's not particularly funny, especially not when Gilliam seems to reaching most emphatically for laughs, a shortcoming that leads to some tedious stretches. However, the idiosyncratic vision that would soon produce gems like “Time Bandits” (1981) and “Brazil” (1985) arrives almost fully formed in Gilliam's solo debut. And the monster, held back until the very end, is pretty darn cool too.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-sIB4Xz_zibU/WhJkesCgeLI/AAAAAAAACEg/qgwRMOGF4wQuqzAhm_XosnKkTGMEeqRhACLcBGAs/s1600/jabberwockycover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="490" data-original-width="348" height="400" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-sIB4Xz_zibU/WhJkesCgeLI/AAAAAAAACEg/qgwRMOGF4wQuqzAhm_XosnKkTGMEeqRhACLcBGAs/s400/jabberwockycover.jpg" width="283" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b>Video:</b></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The film is presented in its original 1.85:1 aspect ratio. I only recall seeing “Jabberwocky” on the old 2001 Columbia DVD which was pretty flat and muddy looking. This recent restoration by the BFI National Archive and The Film Foundation works from the original 35 mm camera negative to produce an impressive 1080p image, sharp and richly textured throughout. It looks sharp in motion too. The color palette is fairly drab, but we're talking about Gilliam's version of the Middle Ages here – many piles of poop, few rainbows. All in all, this is a very strong high-def presentation.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b>Audio:</b></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The DTS-HD Master Audio 5.1 mix is quite robust, effective with the sometimes elaborate sound effects (OK, by elaborate I sometimes mean sounds of suspicious 'plops' in the water) and the eclectic classical music mix. Optional English (SDH) subtitles support the English audio.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b>Extras:</b></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The film is accompanied by an old 2001 audio commentary by Terry Gilliam and Michael Palin.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">“Jabberwocky's Good Nonsense” (41 min.) mixes interviews with Gilliam, Palin, Annette Badland, and producer Sandy Lieberson. In sharing their reminiscences about the film's production, they cover mostly familiar ground with an emphasis on Gilliam's desire to break away from his Python roots in his first solo directorial effort. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">In another interview (15 min.), special-effects artist and designer Valerie Charlton (co-credited for “Monster Creation” in the film) discusses the development of the film's title monster.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Cinematographer Terry Bedford (22 min.) also discusses his work with Gilliam on both “Holy Grail” and “Jabbewrocky” in these audio-only excerpts.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Criterion has also included the film's Original Opening. Gilliam changed the opening/title sequence for the film's U.S. release and settled on a hybrid version for home video release. This original U.K. Cut skips the paintings of the U.S. title sequence.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">We also get a 2001 program which compares Gilliam's original sketches to the final screen version of several scenes.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Finally, in addition to a Trailer (1 min.), we also get a reading of the poem “Jabberwocky” by Palin and Badland.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The slim fold-out booklet features an essay by critic Scott Tobias. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b>Final Thoughts:</b></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">“Jabberwocky” is one of Gilliam's lesser efforts, but even if it's disappointingly short on laughs, it's a fascinating preview of the glorious visions to come from this one-of-a-kind director. Criterion's high-def transfer is stronger and the selection of extras is satisfying, if not overwhelming. </div>Christopher Longhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05964148369227874063noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4956783167516082390.post-26237782559246240562017-11-16T07:53:00.000-08:002017-11-16T07:53:20.790-08:00The Philadelphia Story<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-kt8th-VyMcw/Wg20A_XR3NI/AAAAAAAACEE/AiWqIhSaSbsOt2iby_MQY1z60Qn7ISg1wCLcBGAs/s1600/philadelphiastorycap1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="252" data-original-width="448" height="180" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-kt8th-VyMcw/Wg20A_XR3NI/AAAAAAAACEE/AiWqIhSaSbsOt2iby_MQY1z60Qn7ISg1wCLcBGAs/s320/philadelphiastorycap1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><b>THE PHILADELPHIA STORY</b> (Cukor, 1940)</div><div style="text-align: center;">Criterion Collection, Blu-ray, Release Date Nov 7, 2017</div><div style="text-align: center;">Review by Christopher S. Long</div><br /> <div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Wealthy socialite and bride-to-be Tracy Lord (Katharine Hepburn) finds herself pursued by two prospective suitors, neither of whom happens to be the man she plans to marry tomorrow. Ex-husband C.K. Dexter Haven (Cary Grant) disrupts Tracy's plans not only by barging in unannounced, but also by dragging cranky reporter Mike Connor along in his wake to cover the wedding for his magazine and to wreak further chaos. Tracy's fiance George (John Howard) barely merits a footnote even as his own day of bliss approaches.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Director George Cukor and screenwriter David Ogden Stewart adapted “The Philadelphia Story” (1940) from Philip Barry's 1939 smash-hit play, also starring Hepburn. The project was designed from the outset as an effort to re-establish Hepburn as a star after a series of box-office failure in the late 1930's, which included the now-beloved “Bringing Up Baby” (1938). Hepburn exerted considerable control over the production from the earliest stages, from choosing Cukor to direct to selecting her co-stars (though she initially wanted Spencer Tracy as one of the leads), and the result was a career re-defining triumph, scoring big at the box office and also at the Academy Awards.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Like most romantic comedies of the era, the film relies almost exclusively on the blunt force power of star charisma on which the world-conquering Hollywood system was built. Every seemingly implausible or rushed development in the script has a simple justification. When the cynical Mike abruptly stops grumbling about the corruption of the upper-class and confesses his undying admiration for Tracy, there is only one explanation for his change of heart: she is Katharine Hepburn, and everyone loves Katharine Hepburn. Why does the poised, urbane Tracy still fall for the boorish, narcissistic, alcoholic who once hit her? Because he's Cary Grant, and everyone loves Cary Grant. All of which goes triple for Jimmy Stewart. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">I confess that I am largely insensitive to the charms of studio mega-stars, a natural defect which generally leaves me less receptive to the romantic comedies of the golden age than most other viewers are. But I can still acknowledge the impeccable sense of timing Cukor and his cast enjoyed, as well the myriad of little flourishes provided by a deft script engineered to augment the strengths of the performers. Stewart repeatedly spits out the full name “C.K. Dexter Haven” as an accusation targeted at an entire privileged class. Hepburn endures a baseless series of accusations blaming her for the shortcomings of every man in her life without losing either her patience of her dignity. And Ruth Hussey outshines the top-line stars in an underappreciated role as a photographer and Mike's ill-treated love interest.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The ending is utterly ludicrous, but it's Hepburn, Grant, and Stewart. No need to ask further questions. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-AfT_tUwWT84/Wg20MNlYuBI/AAAAAAAACEI/dw4mXE7ME5AVAi4RXT1zHeQ-hsZFPaTQgCLcBGAs/s1600/philadelphiastorycover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="490" data-original-width="348" height="400" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-AfT_tUwWT84/Wg20MNlYuBI/AAAAAAAACEI/dw4mXE7ME5AVAi4RXT1zHeQ-hsZFPaTQgCLcBGAs/s400/philadelphiastorycover.jpg" width="283" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b>Video: </b></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The film is presented in its original 1.37:1 aspect ratio. The film's original camera negative was destroyed in a 1978 fire, so you would expect any restoration would have to make compromises based on the limitations of their source prints, but it's hard to see any compromise here. Criterion's 1080p transfer offers sharp image detail, strong black-and-white contrast, and a fine grain structure that really makes the film pop. The look is so consistent throughout, I honestly can't spot a noticeable dropoff or flaw of any kind. It's difficult to envision a superior version of this film. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b>Audio:</b></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The linear PCM mono audio track is sharp and relatively flat, as the original audio mix was. The sound design qualifies as strictly functional with dialogue and a Franz Waxman score the only relevant elements. It's all clearly mixed and consistent throughout. Optional English subtitles support the English dialogue. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b>Extras:</b></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Criterion has stacked this new high-definition release with an impressive selection of extras, though only a few are new for this Blu-ray.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The film is accompanied by a 2004 commentary track by film scholar Jeanine Basinger.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">“In Search of Tracy Lord” (2017, 22 min.) details some of the real-life inspirations for Hepburn's signature character, inspirations which include Hepburn herself along with a few people in playwright Philip Barry's life. This feature combines interviews with Miranda Barry (Philip Barry's daughter), Janny Scott (granddaughter of Edgar and Hope Scott, the latter considered to be an inspiration for Tracy Lord), and Donald Anderson, author of a book on Philip Barry's plays.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">“A Katharine Hepburn Production” (19 min.) is a new piece about Hepburn's role in shaping the film from the very start, and mixes interviews with filmmakers David Hedley and Joan Kramer. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The disc includes two full episodes of “The Dick Cavett Show” (69 min. each) which aired in October 1973. Hepburn was known for her reluctance to do interviews, so these lengthy discussions, conducted on a closed backstage, were quite a coup for Cavett and a treat for Hepburn fans. We also get an excerpt (15 min.) from George Cukor's appearance on a May 18, 1978 episode of “The Dick Cavett Show.”</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Criterion has also unearthed a “Lux Radio Theatre” performance of “The Philadelphia Story” which was broadcast on June 14, 1943, and stars Loretta Young, Robert Taylor, and Robert Young in the three leads. Cecil B. DeMille serves as your host for the evening.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">My favorite feature on the disc is a “Restoration Demo” (6 min.) with Criterion's expert technicians explaining the challenges in restoring the film, most of which stem from the fact that the original camera negative was lost in a 1978 fire at the George Eastman House.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The collection rounds out with a Theatrical Trailer (3 min.)</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The slim fold-out booklet includes an essay by critic Farran Smith Nehme. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b>Final Thoughts:</b></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">A fantastic transfer and a stacked offering of extras. Fans of the film could hardly ask for more.</div>Christopher Longhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05964148369227874063noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4956783167516082390.post-5211150596478743282017-10-09T20:41:00.002-07:002017-10-09T20:41:56.344-07:00The Champion<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ecg93N9yb9A/WdxAIYQkQ8I/AAAAAAAACDM/48Ei37l-hJYBQ1X1M3PM_a5AKmQQHUOQgCLcBGAs/s1600/championcap5.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="1079" height="284" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ecg93N9yb9A/WdxAIYQkQ8I/AAAAAAAACDM/48Ei37l-hJYBQ1X1M3PM_a5AKmQQHUOQgCLcBGAs/s320/championcap5.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><b>THE CHAMPION</b> (Perez, 2015)</div><div style="text-align: center;">Milestone Films, DVD, Release Date Oct 17, 2017</div><div style="text-align: center;">Review by Christopher S. Long</div><br /> <div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">On the run from the big-city crime syndicate's goons, an intrepid band of heroes hides out in a sleepy little town …</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">No, that's not the set-up for a low-budget crime caper or Western, it's the set-up for actual film history. OK, perhaps the Motion Picture Patents Company (AKA The Edison Trust) wasn't an actual crime syndicate, but their rigorous enforcement of the stranglehold they held on crucial motion-picture equipment patents forced many independent New York-based filmmakers to devise more innovative methods of production. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">One of the simpler strategies was to hop the ferry across the Hudson River to New Jersey, where it would be at least somewhat more difficult for Trust detectives to muscle out the competition. Film producer Mark Dintenfass was one of the first to make the leap, setting up his Champion Studios in Fort Lee, NJ, which kicked off a movie boom as other producers soon made the same move, all of which explains the title of the new documentary, “The Champion: A Story of America's First Film Town” (2015).</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Produced by the Fort Lee Film Commission, directed by Marc J. Perez, and based on the book “Fort Lee, the Film Town” by Richard Koszarski, this sleek 35-minute documentary tells the story of the rise and fall of this pre-Hollywood movie mecca and the colorful personalities who flocked to it, and then soon fled. The list includes Florence Lawrence, often described as the first American actress to be studio-marketed by name; Theda Bara, who first vamped world audiences from Fort Lee; and trailblazer Alice Guy Blache, the first woman to run an American studio (Solax). Future Hollywood moguls such as Mack Sennett and D.W. Griffith filmed in Fort Lee as well. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Dintenfass's Champion cranked out a series of Westerns and Civil War pictures for a few years, before falling to local competition. The documentary, largely filmed on Fort Lee locations, vividly evokes the specific spaces of this old boom town, from Rambo's Hotel on the main street to the steep Palisades nearby which would provide the backdrop for many of the earliest (literal) cliffhangers. The Fort Lee boom wouldn't last long, petering out due to a host of factors: the waning of the Edison Trust's powers, war-time shortages, a flu pandemic that hit the northeast particularly hard, and, of course, the rise of Hollywood, California. But during its brief peak, the town still produced a plethora of significant early films. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Even with its short running time, “The Champion” pauses to mourn Fort Lee's fall from glory (as “the first film town” anyway) and particularly the degree to which even locals, let alone the rest of the world, have largely forgotten its movie history. Never fear. This sharp, engaging, and informative documentary brings this vital story back to life with passion and clarity, and once you've seen it, you'll never forget about Fort Lee's role in the formative years of the industry. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Still, at just 35-minutes, “The Champion” might be a tough sell as a stand-alone disc, but you may not be aware that this a Milestone Films release. And the name Milestone guarantees not just supreme quality but also a comprehensive roster of supplemental features on any release, and in this case, enough to expand “The Champion” into a 2-disc set.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Milestone has, in keeping with its glorious tradition, included not one, not two, not... aw heck, they've included nine additional films, all of which are accompanied by new scores.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b>DISC ONE</b> includes the main documentary feature, “The Champion” along with six other films.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The first five extra films on the disc were shot at Champion from 1910 to 1912.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b>“The Indian Land Grab”</b> (1910, 11 min.) tells the story of an Indian leader who petitions the federal government not to seize his tribe's land. You might groan a bit at the prospect of a film from this era depicting Native Americans, but the film portrays them as the aggrieved party out for justice and even takes time out for the Indian leader to fall in love with the daughter of a legislator which, according to the notes included with this set, generated controversy at the time. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b>“A Daughter of Dixie”</b> (1911, 10 min.) presents viewers with an innocent, true-hearted Southern belle whose loyalties are torn when her brother joins the Confederacy and her boyfriend joins the Union. It's no masterpiece, but at least it doesn't indulge mindlessly in the pro-Confederacy nostalgia that was the coin of the realm in so much early cinema.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Ifx3qVHx910/WdxAsF2byaI/AAAAAAAACDU/D0h67dkrkfcqkW_yhXISH67loGtcoQC2wCLcBGAs/s1600/championflorencelawrence2.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="886" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Ifx3qVHx910/WdxAsF2byaI/AAAAAAAACDU/D0h67dkrkfcqkW_yhXISH67loGtcoQC2wCLcBGAs/s320/championflorencelawrence2.jpeg" width="221" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Florence Lawrence</td></tr></tbody></table><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b>“Not Like Other Girls”</b> (1912, 9 min.) was shot for Universal Victor, a studio built primarily around Florence Lawrence, often called America's first named movie star. This was a bit of a thrill for me as I've actually lectured on Florence Lawrence without ever seeing a full movie with her before. Lawrence plays another true-hearted heroine who proves she doesn't love her beau just for his money. The movie is predictable fluff, but I give a big thumbs up to F-Law.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b>“Flo's Discipline”</b> (1912, 11 min.) is another Florence Lawrence vehicle that is, alas, not as saucy as its title teases. Lawrence plays a teacher tasked with taming an unruly boys' school which requires a good deal of ingenuity and assertiveness on her part. Lawrence is no shrinking violet here, and the movie is a lot of fun. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b>“Marked Cards”</b> (1913, 10 min.) was one of the last of Champion's films and it doesn't do much to argue that the brand should have continued. A banker gets ripped off in a crooked card game and seeks revenge in a rather half-baked manner. It's much hard-boiled then the other films on the disc, but not particularly successful.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The sixth extra film on Disc One is yet another documentary about Fort Lee. “Ghost Town: The Story of Fort Lee” (1935, 17 min.) adopts a full elegy mode little more than a decade after Fort Lee's boom went bust. Produced by New Jersey film buff Theodore Huff, it positions the collapse of “America's first film town” as a cautionary tale for a society built on the boom-bust cycle, the future ruins of capitalism visible in the ruins of Fort Lee's film studios. It's quite moving, and seems like a clear inspiration for “The Champion.”</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b>DISC TWO</b> offers three silent films also shot in Fort Lee, though not specifically for or at Champion.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-dBz9lDzqEMA/WdxA5ZhtzbI/AAAAAAAACDY/SgxXuLog1pIU57Hpofj6hRZyYPjGkAvNgCLcBGAs/s1600/championcap3.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="942" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-dBz9lDzqEMA/WdxA5ZhtzbI/AAAAAAAACDY/SgxXuLog1pIU57Hpofj6hRZyYPjGkAvNgCLcBGAs/s320/championcap3.jpeg" width="235" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b>“The Danger Game”</b> (1918, 61 min.) is an early Samuel Goldwyn production, directed by Harry Pollard and starring Madge Kennedy, a Broadway comedienne then making the jump to the suddenly (somewhat) legitimate big screen. Kennedy plays Clytie Rogers, a sheltered young woman of privilege who fancies herself the next great American novelist. When her first book (published largely because of her well-connected father) is panned by a critic who accuses her of being too naïve to write convincingly about the world, she vows to prove she can commit to a life of crime. Hilarity ensues. The film adopts an ambivalent if not outright condescending view of the liberated post-war American woman, but Kennedy (perhaps best known to '50s audiences as Aunt Martha on “Leave it to Beaver”) is a game performer who throws herself headfirst into a series of challenges. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b>“A Grocery Clerk's Romance”</b> (1912, 8 min.) is an early Keystone Comedy directed by Mack Sennett which was shot at Rambo's Hotel in Fort Lee. It's not quite as zany or kinetic as more familiar Keystone comedies, but it's got plenty of pizazz, not to mention bombs and quickie marriages. Starring Ford Sterling.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b>“Robin Hood”</b> (1912, 31 min.) was shot at Eclair Studios, one of the most successful outfits to set up shop in Fort Lee. At a half hour in length and with some elaborate action sequences, it was a fairly ambitious undertaking for its time that remains quite compelling more than a century later.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-e0wY8owlxLw/WdxBLD0JAGI/AAAAAAAACDc/LxWUCd17avs317PEdfKB6HQeXe-cjUsFgCLcBGAs/s1600/championcover.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="899" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-e0wY8owlxLw/WdxBLD0JAGI/AAAAAAAACDc/LxWUCd17avs317PEdfKB6HQeXe-cjUsFgCLcBGAs/s400/championcover.jpeg" width="280" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b>Video:</b></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Obviously, with ten total films released as much as a century apart, the video quality varies considerably. I'll just note that “The Danger Game” required the most extensive restoration and is still missing some footage (replaced with stills here) and is at its most perilous state of decay in the first reel. It's amazing that the film survives at all, and the restoration to reach its current presentable state has been quite extensive, more heroic work from our great film restoration experts. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b>Audio:</b></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Each of the silent films is accompanied by a new score. All of the films aside from “The Champion” on Disc One have music by Ben Model. “The Danger Game” has music by Donald Sosin. “A Grocery Clerk's Romance” and “Robin Hood” are accompanied with music compiled by Rodney Sauer and performed by the Mont Alto Motion Picture Orchestra. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b>Extras:</b></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The “extras” are all described above. The only additional extra is the slim inert booklet with summaries and historical background for each of the films includes in this two-disc set.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b>Final Thoughts:</b></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">“The Champion” is yet another lovingly and meticulously curated release from Milestone Films, telling a vital and largely forgotten story about the formative days of the American film industry. The inclusion of a cornucopia of silent films, many never previously released on DVD and some painstakingly restored here, is a source of celebration for any true film lover. Plus you get two Florence Lawrences! </div>Christopher Longhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05964148369227874063noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4956783167516082390.post-76950768732849903742017-10-09T11:48:00.001-07:002017-10-09T11:49:23.617-07:00Vampyr<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-TOhHD_z5N08/WdvDxfPvlEI/AAAAAAAACCw/tqaNl1jHjYchLGbreL5jZ13y4_aPNPuTwCLcBGAs/s1600/vampyrcap4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="252" data-original-width="448" height="225" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-TOhHD_z5N08/WdvDxfPvlEI/AAAAAAAACCw/tqaNl1jHjYchLGbreL5jZ13y4_aPNPuTwCLcBGAs/s400/vampyrcap4.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><b>VAMPYR</b> (Dreyer, 1932)</div><div style="text-align: center;">Criterion Collection, Blu-ray, Release Date Oct 3, 2017</div><div style="text-align: center;">Review by Christoper S. Long</div><br /><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">(The following is a substantially revised version of the review I wrote back in 2008 on the occasion of Criterion's DVD release of “Vampyr.” Video, Audio, and Extras sections refer, of course, to Criterion's 2017 Blu-ray release. Images embedded in this review are NOT taken from the Blu-ray itself.)</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Carl Theodor Dreyer's “Vampyr” (1932) shares several traits in common with Jacques Tati's “Trafic” (1971), also released by Criterion this month (Ed. Note: Criterion released both films on DVD in July 2008). Both films were intended to be more commercially viable follow-ups to box-office failures; respectively, “The Passion of Joan of Arc” (1928) and “Playtime” (1967). Both of those prior “failures” happen to be among the greatest films of all-time, each being comfortably ensconced in my personal top twenty, their box-office failure a testament to the failure of audiences (and maybe distributors, too).</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Another similarity merits further discussion. Both “Vampyr” and “Trafic” feature idiosyncratic, elaborate sound designs which distinguish them sharply from most other films. When I initially wrote this review, I described both movies as “feeling like silent films” which was not terribly accurate. “Trafic,” like all Tati films, tells its story largely without words, while relying on the dense mix of sound effects and music to create a hermetic pocket universe. Tati-world resembles no other, but silent cinema it is not. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">“Vampyr” also enjoys an otherworldly quality due in no small part to its sound design, but Dreyer didn't intend this from the get go. Dreyer, already one of the great masters of silent cinema, was somewhat reluctantly shooting his first sound project and had little interest in adapting his style, refined while working as a de facto independent filmmaker within the studio system. He shot the entire film without sound, and only recorded sound effects and voices (in three separate languages: German, English, and French) in post-production.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">With the need for heavy blimps to muffle the noise from loud camera motors and microphones with limited range, the cameras on many (though most certainly not all) early sound films were often anchored in place. Unburdened by synchronized sound, however, Dreyer's camera remained free to glide wherever he willed it to go, roaming alongside and well ahead of intrepid adventurer/ghost hunter Allan Gray (Julien West) on his rambling supernatural journey. The tinny voices and exotic animal sounds (produced by local performers, not clipped from a sound library) combine with the gracefully untethered camera to lend the film a genuinely uncanny feel, a feel both perfectly suited to its pulpy material and all but unique to Dreyer's hybrid silent/sound film.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">“Vampyr” loosely adapts two short stories by Irish author Sheridan le Fanu, situating protagonist Allan Gray in a world with all the stock elements now familiar to the vampire genre, a genre which had enjoyed a mini-boom in literature and on the stage but had only made a minimal impact on cinema. Allan Gray materializes out of the fog with virtually no back story. During his “aimless wanderings” he happens upon an isolated seaside inn. A strange man, also appearing without warning, wanders into Gray's room and cries out, “She must not die!” Gray soon discovers that this man's daughter, Leone (Sybille Schmitz), teeters on the brink of death, plagued by strange bite marks on her neck, while a creepy doctor (Jan Hieronimko) provides her dubious care. You know where this one's going, but most 1932 audiences probably didn't.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-cxCsL0txQyk/WdvD8YlEpoI/AAAAAAAACC0/urfTVqmm0Q0WlfOt0OJ_6uMCit7jF-VKwCLcBGAs/s1600/vampyrcap3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="926" data-original-width="1200" height="307" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-cxCsL0txQyk/WdvD8YlEpoI/AAAAAAAACC0/urfTVqmm0Q0WlfOt0OJ_6uMCit7jF-VKwCLcBGAs/s400/vampyrcap3.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Gray, unable to sleep, wanders through the inn at night and then to the abandoned house out back where he encounters an array of spooky sights and sounds. Shadows dart across the moors, one appears to be “undigging” a grave, another peg-legged shadow moves independently of its more human (?) counterpart. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Gray does little but gawk at these supernatural displays, sometimes appearing to have no reaction at all. This is partly attributable to the fact that lead Julian West is really Baron Nicolas de Gunzburg, a non-professional actor who agreed to finance the film only if he got to star in it was well. His Allan Gray is bizarrely passive, which might sound like a flaw, but only further contributes to the unnerving quality and free-floating anxiety of Dreyer's immensely strange film.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">And it sure is strange. Dreyer exhibits minimal interest in providing clear match cuts or other expected standards of film grammar (of which he was, let's once again note, already a master), rendering the timeline and especially the screen geography downright confusing and disorienting at times. There is no clear flow from room to room, from one location to another. Gray and other characters wander in and out of shots, which oscillate from point-of-view shots to objective shots, then back again. Is everything being filtered through Gray's perception, or have we entered a netherworld where the rules of time and space and logic simply don't apply? It doesn't become any clearer on multiple viewings, one of many reasons “Vampyr” is one of the most enjoyable horror films ever made.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">At least one aspect of “Vampyr” is crystal clear. It features one of the greatest sequences in the history of horror film and, for that matter, in all of cinema. It's the sequence in which Gray imagines his own death and there's really no way to do it justice in mere words, so I'll let you discover it for yourself. I'll just say that I first watched it about fifteen years ago, and it still gives me chills just to think about it. That view through the window in the coffin... </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">That reminds me. I've made it this deep into the review without even mention the titular “Vampyr,” haven't I? Oh well, you'll have to discover that for yourself as well. If you dare!</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-tt_1ARWSkTE/WdvEKDVVKJI/AAAAAAAACC4/a8LxN0se4-QKmqKwvzSfE5R6qxKGXmJQwCLcBGAs/s1600/vampyrcover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="490" data-original-width="348" height="400" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-tt_1ARWSkTE/WdvEKDVVKJI/AAAAAAAACC4/a8LxN0se4-QKmqKwvzSfE5R6qxKGXmJQwCLcBGAs/s400/vampyrcover.jpg" width="283" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b>Video:</b></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">This version of “Vampyr” is based on a 1998 restoration by Martin Koerber, as was Criterion's 2008 DVD release. This 1080p transfer still shows the scratches and other damage visible from the film's very old source print, but they seem less prominent in parts on this high-def upgrade. Overall, the image quality is quite sharp with an appropriately grain feel that's only occasionally a bit washed out due to likely boosting necessary to buff the image. The old DVD looked pretty darn good, but this 1080p transfer is a meaningful improvement for a film that more deserves the very best.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The film is presented in its original 1.19:1 “pillar-boxed' aspect ratio, a ratio only common for a few of the early years of sound cinema.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b>Audio:</b></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The film is presented with a linear PCM mono sound track. I can't say I notice a huge difference from the old SD Dolby Digital mono mix, but it's a bit sharper and still preserves that tinny, haunted quality so crucial to the film's success. Optional English subtitles support the German audio.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b>Extras:</b></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">This Blu-ray imports all of the extras from the 2008 SD release with no new features added. However, the Blu-ray is now a single disc compared to the old 2-disc DVD release.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The film is accompanied by a 2008 commentary track by film scholar Tony Rayns. Rayns is one of the very best in the game and his commentary is packed with information and analysis and is riveting from start to finish.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Criterion has also included as “English Text” version of the film. As mentioned above, Dreyer shot in three languages. Though it's a sound film, he also includes silent-style title cards and this “alternate” version includes English text for those title cards instead of the German text in the more common version. The film is otherwise just about the same.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">“Carl Th. Dreyer” (30 min.) is a 1966 documentary directed by Jorgen Roos on the occasion of the release of Dreyer's final film, “Gertrud” (1964). It touches on his pre-“Joan of Arc” career, which many Dreyer fans might not know as much about.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">I greatly enjoyed the “Visual Essay” (2008, 36 min.) by film scholar Casper Tybjerg. Tybjerg discusses many of Dreyer's influences and also analyzes stills and clips, including some material removed by censors.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">We also get a 1958 radio broadcast (23 min.) in which Dreyer reads an essay about film-making.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The Blu-ray is stored in a keep case which is tucked into a slip case alongside a very thick booklet, reproduced from the 2008 release. This very thick booklet includes the film's screenplay by Dreyer and writer Christien Jul along with Sheridan Le Fanu's short story “Carmilla” (1872), one of the sources from which “Vampyr” was loosely adapted. “Carmilla” is one of the classic pre-“Dracula” vampire stories and also features a lesbian subtext (more text than subtext, really) that Dreyer omitted from the film.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">In addition to this additional booklet, Criterion has also included a more typical insert booklet, tucked into the keepcase along with the disc, which includes an essay by critic Mark Le Fanu, an essay by novelist Kim Newman, and an essay by Martin Koerber about the film's 1998 restoration. The booklet also includes a short interview with actor/financier Baron Nicolas de Gunburg, originally published in 1964.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b>Final Thoughts:</b></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">I used to think “Vampyr” was a great film, and certainly a unique entry in the horror genre, but clearly not on par with Dreyer masterpieces such as “The Passion of Joan of Arc” and “Day of Wrath” (1943). Now I see it as one of his most audacious and formally daring films, and quite possibly the best horror film ever made by anyone other than Stanley Kubrick. This Blu-ray upgrade more than does justice to Dreyer's remarkable and unparalleled achievement, and kudos to Criterion for once again including the marvelous supplemental booklet with both script and Sheridan Le Fanu story, a nice bonus for an already impressive package. </div>Christopher Longhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05964148369227874063noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4956783167516082390.post-1211990218833315852017-09-25T10:25:00.001-07:002017-09-25T10:25:22.433-07:00David Lynch: The Art Life<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-b84VVF1gis0/Wck7uZZvQeI/AAAAAAAACCc/Z8O14l1Hm10X6IBF281WGlYssyxtS6wSwCLcBGAs/s1600/lynchartlifecap2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="252" data-original-width="448" height="225" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-b84VVF1gis0/Wck7uZZvQeI/AAAAAAAACCc/Z8O14l1Hm10X6IBF281WGlYssyxtS6wSwCLcBGAs/s400/lynchartlifecap2.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><b>DAVID LYNCH: THE ART LIFE</b> (Nguyen, Barnes, Neergard-Holm, 2016)</div><div style="text-align: center;">Criterion Collection, Blu-ray, Release Date Sep 26, 2017</div><div style="text-align: center;">Review by Christopher S. Long</div><br /> <div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The most disturbing moment in the new documentary, “David Lynch: The Art Life” (2016), occurs as the film's subject relates a story from his youth. Lynch reflects back on the day when his neighbor Mr. Smith came by and... “I can't tell the story,” says a shaken Lynch. And, indeed, he does not.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The aborted anecdote feels like a quintessentially Lynchian moment not just for its enigmatic quality, but because it arrives amidst a series of tales of a fairly serene and utterly “normal” youth: a picket-fence suburban home, a loving family, and parents who believed in hard work and the American Dream. Is this frightening non-story of Mr. Smith the origin of the Lynchian vision of the horrors lurking in every nice and normal small American town?</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Probably not. And Lynch isn't foolish enough to confirm or even entertain such a simple-minded take. Indeed, as the documentary's title (suggested by Lynch) indicates, art is nothing less than life itself, a life-long project, evolving every day with each scrape of the brush or smear of plaster or turn of the saw or snip of celluloid, and Lynch has been passionately living the art life for more than half a century.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Lynch does actually offer one clear-cut origin tale, the moment when he discovered his true calling. The revelation arrives during what he describes as a “dark” time in high school in Virginia, when he learned that his friend's father was an artist (Lynch's mentor-to-be Bushnell Keeler). The idea that a real, living person could actually be a full-time artist struck Lynch like a bolt from the blue and from that point on, he had little doubt what he wanted his future career to be. Whether the non-art aspects of life (wife, children, rent) would allow him to do so is another story.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Directors Jon Nguyen, Rick Barnes, and Olivia Neergaard-Holm enjoyed surprising access to an artist both famous and celebrated for his reserve. Many Lynch fans thrill to the now-legendary interview in which Lynch opined, “Eraserhead is my most spiritual film” and replied to the interviewer's request to “Elaborate on that” with a blunt “No.” Lynch doesn't actually analyze his art in this documentary, consisting exclusively of interviews conducted with Lynch over a three-year period, but he is surprisingly candid about his life story, from his peripatetic youth to his disturbing college-age experiences in Philadelphia (“thick, thick fear... sickness, corruption”) to the major boost he achieved upon admission to the American Film Institute in Los Angeles, where he would spend several years filming his breakthrough feature debut, “Eraserhead” (1977).</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Lynch's audio interviews are edited with close-ups of his artwork throughout the decades as well as numerous shots of him just relaxing and smoking, sometimes with rows of empty glass Coke bottles lined up next to his work station. There's nothing revelatory here, no a-ha moment that “explains” Lynch's work, but who would want such a terrible thing anyway? Instead, the directors have presented a portrait of man who works every day, takes his share of smoke breaks, and just keeps on living the art life, and that's about it. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Well, there's also the story about the naked woman who walked through town one day but...</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-gwdRpDoTaCw/Wck74oXa5DI/AAAAAAAACCg/Sl02ibC7-BIPNOPpXWtEth5ZCAeMgd8IwCLcBGAs/s1600/lynchartlifecover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="490" data-original-width="348" height="400" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-gwdRpDoTaCw/Wck74oXa5DI/AAAAAAAACCg/Sl02ibC7-BIPNOPpXWtEth5ZCAeMgd8IwCLcBGAs/s400/lynchartlifecover.jpg" width="283" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b>Video:</b></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The film is presented in its original 1.78:1 aspect ratio. The documentary was shot over several years on both a 5D digital camera and an iPhone5, so the image quality varies throughout, but looks sharp.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b>Audio:</b></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The DTS-HD Master Audio 5.1 surround track is crisp and efficient. There's not too much to say about it, really. Optional English subtitles support the English audio.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b>Extras:</b></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Surprisingly, the only notable supplementary feature is a new (2017, 16 min.) interview with co-director Jon Nguyen who talks about the genesis of the project, acknowledging that it was, for the most part, made to meet Lynch's approval. The film also uses three of Lynch's songs.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">A Theatrical Trailer (2 min.) is the only other extra.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The slim fold-out booklet features an essay by film critic Dennis Lim as well as reproductions of some of Lynch's art.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b>Final Thoughts:</b></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">“David Lynch: The Art Life” is certainly essential viewing for Lynch devotees. It's an unusual release for Criterion, as it feels a bit more like one of the spectacular supplemental features the studio would offer along with another film than a stand-alone release with only one short extra. But it's certainly compelling.</div><br /><br />Christopher Longhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05964148369227874063noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4956783167516082390.post-88234304360594496552017-09-19T12:46:00.000-07:002017-09-20T12:49:27.748-07:00Certain Women<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-mtoU0FkvPjg/WcLF7YPBwxI/AAAAAAAACCE/OC5GnSaAAoo0xlD_T6E-9U1mKpGoczZ0wCLcBGAs/s1600/certainwomen2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="800" height="225" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-mtoU0FkvPjg/WcLF7YPBwxI/AAAAAAAACCE/OC5GnSaAAoo0xlD_T6E-9U1mKpGoczZ0wCLcBGAs/s400/certainwomen2.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><b>CERTAIN WOMEN</b> (Reichardt, 2016)</div><div style="text-align: center;">Criterion Collection, Blu-ray, Release Dare Sep 19, 2017</div><div style="text-align: center;">Review by Christopher S. Long</div><br /> <div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Before introducing any of the “Certain Women” in her film, director Kelly Reichardt begins with a long shot of a distant train rumbling along a track through a wide-open expanse of Montana countryside. As in the majority of her films, Reichardt foregrounds the landscapes her characters navigate – mountains and hills loom at the edge of the frame, even intruding as reflections in a car window during a tense, quiet conversation between driver and passenger. These exquisite shots by Reichardt and cinematographer Christopher Blauvelt don't necessarily evoke a specific mood, but rather integrate the often-isolated protagonists with their environment, suggesting that a person's story cannot be related or understood without knowing about the spaces they inhabit. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">In “Certain Women,” the limitless horizons of big sky country provide more obstacle than opportunity. Young lawyer Elizabeth Travis (Kristen Stewart) is forced to drive four hours each way to teach a night school class because she misread the name of the town when she signed up. Her bosses won't help her get out of the gig because they think it's funny. For businesswoman Gina (Michelle Williams), the remote, bucolic woods allow for a quiet camping trip and even a cheap place to build a country home, but no escape from the tensions of a badly fraying family life. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Laura (Laura Dern), the first protagonist in a film divided into three separate though slightly overlapping stories, interacts less directly with the sprawling Montana landscape than with the men who inhabit it and who also comprise most of her work and social circles. Her client, Will Fuller (Jared Harris), recently suffered a head injury in a workplace accident, and refuses to believe her when she informs him he has exhausted all legal recourse. Only the identical words from a male lawyer convince Fuller his case is lost, prompting him to take justice into his own hands in the film's sole “action” sequence in which Laura act bravely, patiently and sensibly, only to be all but completely ignored by the men who commiserate after the resolution of the crisis.&nbsp;</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-dDLfeOKZmDM/WcLGC7og3QI/AAAAAAAACCI/Vv-ouhgWHk8DD6_c4wDRDVL-ZHBj2ZjHACLcBGAs/s1600/certainwomen1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="252" data-original-width="448" height="225" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-dDLfeOKZmDM/WcLGC7og3QI/AAAAAAAACCI/Vv-ouhgWHk8DD6_c4wDRDVL-ZHBj2ZjHACLcBGAs/s400/certainwomen1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">In the second story, Gina and husband Ryan (James Le Gros) bicker on a camping trip while their petulant teenage daughter (Sara Rodier) shuts them both out. The about-to-go-nuclear family stops to visit an older acquaintance (Rene Auberjonois) to ask him if they can purchase a pile of sandstone on his property. He has also suffered a recent head injury that leaves him confused, and the young “power” couple briefly struggles with ethical concerns over negotiating a deal with him. Very briefly. He wasn't doing anything with it anyway, and there's just so much unused Montana space waiting to be developed. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The final story, widely and properly reviewed as the film's strongest, witnesses the aforementioned Elizabeth griping about her awful teaching job out in the sticks to one of her students, a young rancher (Lily Gladstone) who just wandered into the classroom on a whim. The rancher swiftly becomes enamored of the frazzled, frumpily-dressed Elizabeth, and seeks to impress her by offering her a ride through town on her horse.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Screenwriter/director Reichardt adapted the film from several short stories by Montana-raised author Maile Meloy. According to Meloy, Reichardt stuck fairly closely to the original material, though with the significant change of turning the male rancher from her story “Travis, B.” into a young woman. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">I am not familiar with Meloy's work, but that final decision by Reichardt yields a true breakout performance by Lily Gladstone who shines both in her scenes alone, completing the grueling drudge work on the ranch with a perky corgi tagging along behind her, and especially as she rides through town with her new love clinging to the saddle behind her, her serene triumphant smile crowned by a nimbus of light from the streetlamps in the background.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Dern, Williams, and Stewart are sensational as well in what I thought was the best-acted film of 2016. And even in a small role, Rene Auberjonois shouldn't be overlooked either, but then nobody could overlook one of the most magnificent, expressive faces in the last half century of American cinema and television.&nbsp;</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-RRkcs2aXYB8/WcLGI51OGuI/AAAAAAAACCM/o75rRbQrT0k11057qqi7-kpl0LIKfK5ggCLcBGAs/s1600/certainwomencover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="490" data-original-width="348" height="400" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-RRkcs2aXYB8/WcLGI51OGuI/AAAAAAAACCM/o75rRbQrT0k11057qqi7-kpl0LIKfK5ggCLcBGAs/s400/certainwomencover.jpg" width="283" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b>Video: </b></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The film is presented in its original 1.85:1 aspect ratio. Shot on 16 mm, “Certain Women” has a grainy, sturdy look that has been well-preserved in this 1080p transfer. Image detail is sharp throughout. It's as strong as you'd expect from a recent film.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b>Audio:</b></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The DTS-HD 5.1 Master Audio is crisp and rich, highlighting the details of a fairly quiet film in which seemingly “minor” sound elements are still quite important. All dialogue is clearly mixed and the audio quality is consistent throughout. Optional English subtitles support the English audio.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b>Extras:</b></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Criterion has only included a few short interviews as supplemental features on this Blu-ray release, all of which were recorded in early 2017 for the Criterion Collection.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Kelly Reichardt (14 min.) speaks briefly about the project's development and makes sure to share credit with her many collaborators. Filmmaker Todd Haynes (14 min.), executive producer of the film, speaks about his longtime support for Reichardt (“I just dug her!”). Author Maile Meloy (13 min.) turns out to the relatively rare writer who is thoroughly pleased with a filmmaker's adaptation of her work. The only other extra is a Theatrical Trailer (2 min.)</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The slim fold-out insert booklet features an essay by film critic Ella Taylor. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b>Final Thoughts:</b></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Fans who felt Reichardt's previous film, “Night Moves” (2013), was her first misstep (and I was one) can relax. The director of “Old Joy” (2006), “Wendy and Lucy” (2008), and “Meek's Cutoff” (2010) is still one of the greatest contemporary American filmmakers, and “Certain Women” confirms she remains at her peak.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div>Christopher Longhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05964148369227874063noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4956783167516082390.post-73209748027756965312017-08-21T21:33:00.001-07:002017-08-22T13:43:01.865-07:00Sid and Nancy<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-E67PnNbBooU/WZuzG_SDF-I/AAAAAAAACBg/Dfag7yztIMc7cDiAaqwGW5ragNcETw-ZQCLcBGAs/s1600/sidnancycap1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="252" data-original-width="448" height="225" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-E67PnNbBooU/WZuzG_SDF-I/AAAAAAAACBg/Dfag7yztIMc7cDiAaqwGW5ragNcETw-ZQCLcBGAs/s400/sidnancycap1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><b>SID AND NANCY</b> (Cox, 1986)</div><div style="text-align: center;">Criterion Collection, Blu-ray, Release Date Aug 22, 2017</div><div style="text-align: center;">Review by Christopher S. Long</div><br /><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">As a portrait of the London punk scene circa 1977, Alex Cox's “Sid and Nancy” (1986) relies on its fair share of shortcuts and cliches. Watch the scary punk smash his head against the wall! See him spray paint graffiti all over some poor sod's apartment! Yet as the film progresses, the carnivalesque caricatures resolve into more fully-fleshed personalities, and as the film's other elements drop off one by one, leaving the two title characters alone in their tiny pocket universe, it achieves a tragic resonance.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The film relates the squalid and now well-known tale of the doomed, co-dependent relationship between Sex Pistols bassist Sid Vicious (Gary Oldman) and American punk groupie Nancy Spungen (Chloe Webb), a drug-fueled relationship that culminated with Vicious being charged with Nancy's murder in New York's Chelsea Hotel. Vicious died of a heroin overdose a few months later.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The loud-mouthed, heavily pierced punk rockers and various hangers on seldom appear to be having much fun, motivated primarily by a need to alleviate the boredom of (non)working-class life in mid-'70s England. This is hardly a romanticized vision of an angry outsider movement: the fans pay more attention to their faux-rebellious fashion statements and Sid's bandmate Johnny Rotten/Lydon (Andrew Schofield) contributes to the scene mostly by belching and farting. Under Nancy's expert tutelage, Sid becomes vastly more concerned with his next drug hit than with the band though, to be fair, he was never exactly big on practice in the first place. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">After a few stumbles in London, “Sid and Nancy” picks up considerably when the action shifts to America for the band's failed tour which would see them break up before its completion. If Sid was never the most devoted bandmate, he suffers considerably when cut adrift from the Sex Pistols, now with the directionless Nancy as his only rudder. Thelovers settle into a grubby room at the Chelsea Hotel where only their drug dealers any attention to them as they pass an indeterminate number of blurry days by shooting up and passing out, too impotent and pathetic even to achieve Nancy's stated goal of going out in a blaze of glory.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-1ZVM-oKroMU/WZuz9vCD23I/AAAAAAAACBs/QRxocY_nEQQZ9UBXZXuxvFj9sGSnSo26gCLcBGAs/s1600/sidnancycap6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="427" data-original-width="758" height="225" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-1ZVM-oKroMU/WZuz9vCD23I/AAAAAAAACBs/QRxocY_nEQQZ9UBXZXuxvFj9sGSnSo26gCLcBGAs/s400/sidnancycap6.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">I admit to finding Chloe Webb's abrasive caterwauling an irritation at times, but the limited archival footage suggests she was embracing the real Nancy with admirable gusto, and there's no denying the relentless ferocity she brings to the role. Pale, skinny Oldman, in his first significant film role, snarls and mumbles his way through an intensely physical performance; the semi-coherent, largely-inarticulate Sid looks ready to collapse at any moment, but somehow keeps powering through to the next day on a mix of spite and apathy. And heroin. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Cox is unflinching in his portrayal of Sid and Nancy's last-days degeneracy, a sticking point for some punk historians and fans as well as a few critics who found it exploitative. Cox and co-writer Abbe Wool certainly have no interest in depicting Sid and Nancy as star-crossed Shakespearean lovers, or as the romantic embodiment of the true punk ideal, but I think they still sympathize with them even at their most pathetic. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Amidst all the cramped, sparsely-lit bedrooms and dive bars (cinematographer Roger Deakins works wonders in dim, claustrophobic spaces), Sid gets one glamorous fantasy sequence. Stumbling down a set of neon-lit stairs that lead to nowhere, he spits out his own obscenity-laden version of “My Way,” a show-stopping scene that somehow remains poignant even after it erupts in gunfire.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Wuy_VfQom0U/WZu0Gitq8II/AAAAAAAACBw/Xftmg4z-R3066uJOYZRaz9W-Q2E-DgQPQCLcBGAs/s1600/sidnancycover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="490" data-original-width="348" height="400" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Wuy_VfQom0U/WZu0Gitq8II/AAAAAAAACBw/Xftmg4z-R3066uJOYZRaz9W-Q2E-DgQPQCLcBGAs/s400/sidnancycover.jpg" width="283" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b>Video:</b></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The film is presented in its original 1.85:1 aspect ratio. This new “16-bit 4k digital transfer” is virtually flawless, with sharp image detail and a vibrant color palette. It's so strong, I have little to say.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b>Audio:</b></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The disc offers both linear PCM mono and DTS-HD Master 5.1 surround options. The film isn't quite as heavy on punk music as some fans might prefer (OK, as I might prefer) but in addition to a few Sex Pistols tracks, Joe Strummer provides multiple contributions to the film's score (with fake credits obscuring exactly what he did). Both audio options are crisp and distortion-free, as you would expect from Criterion. Optional English subtitles support the English audio, and might be needed when Oldman embodies Sid at his least articulate.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b>Extras:</b></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Criterion has packed this Blu-ray release with an overwhelming collection of features, both old and new.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The film is accompanied by two different commentary tracks. The first, recorded for the Criterion laser disc release in 1994, features Oldman, Webb, writer Abbe Wool, cultural historian Greil Marcus, and filmmakers Julien Temple and Lech Kowalski. The second, recorded in 2001, features Alex Cox and actor Andrew Schofield.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">In a new interview (2016, 24 min.), Alex Cox speaks about the film's genesis and production. Neat trivia bit: casting Sid came down to newcomer Gary Oldman and relative neophyte Daniel Day-Lewis.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The disc also includes excerpts (14 min.) from Danny Garcia's 2016 documentary, “Sad Vacation: The Last Days of Sid and Nancy.” We also get excerpts (10 min.) from Lech Kowalski's 1980 documentary on the Sex Pistols, “D.O.A.: A Right Of Passage.” The former combines interviews with many commentators. The latter consists mostly of footage of the real Sid and Nancy laying about, Sid stoned out of his mind and wearing a t-shirt with a swastika emblazoned on it.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The rest of the features are all archival material. We get audio of a phone call (13 min.) between Vicious and photographer Roberta Bayley, placed on Jan 19, 1978, a few days after he was hospitalized for a drug overdose on a plane. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">In a brief excerpt (3 min.) from the Dec 1, 1976 episode of the British show “Today,” the smug host Bill Grundy outright mocks his guests, The Sex Pistols, and can barely tolerate what he sees as their pathetic, insincere act. The chaotic appearance helped boost their profile considerably.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">We also get an excerpt (13 min.) from the Nov 28, 1976 episode of “The London Weekend Show” in which journalist Janet Street-Porter takes a look at the music and fashion of the London punk scene. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />The final feature is a Theatrical Trailer (2 min.)</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The insert booklet includes an essay by author Jon Savage and a compilation of some research conducted for the film by Alex Cox.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b>Final Thoughts:</b></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">I think “Sid and Nancy” is much more successful in its American scenes than its London ones, but perhaps that's because the most moving parts of the story involve Sid and Nancy in total isolation. With its exceptional transfer and a bounty of supplemental features, this Criterion release should provide fans everything they could ever wanted from a “Sid and Nancy” disc. </div>Christopher Longhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05964148369227874063noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4956783167516082390.post-10634501232437922572017-08-15T13:18:00.000-07:002017-08-16T13:19:32.900-07:00Hopscotch<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-B-bYej7iZvY/WZSoUT1whKI/AAAAAAAACBI/zPI8xXZRS4ImhY7pbL1dllnkdoqzUrf7ACLcBGAs/s1600/hopscotchcap1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="252" data-original-width="448" height="225" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-B-bYej7iZvY/WZSoUT1whKI/AAAAAAAACBI/zPI8xXZRS4ImhY7pbL1dllnkdoqzUrf7ACLcBGAs/s400/hopscotchcap1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><b>HOPSCOTCH</b> (Neame, 1980)</div><div style="text-align: center;">Criterion Collection, Blu-ray, Release Date Aug 15, 2017</div><div style="text-align: center;">Review by Christopher S. Long</div><br /> <div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Some spies want to save the world, and some are in it just to get laid. Veteran CIA superagent Miles Kendig (Walter Matthau) just wants to be a bit of a prick.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Kendig, the protagonist of “Hopscotch” (1980), has his reasons. After wrapping a flawless mission during Oktoberfest in Munich, Kendig returns home to learn that he's being shunted to a desk job by his newly appointed boss Myerson (Ned Beatty), an officious paper-pusher short on both imagination and stature. Not one to sulk, Kendig immediately leaps into action, destroying his files and decamping for Austria where he hooks up with old flame Isobel (Glenda Jackson), a semi-retired agent with a similar contempt for the bureaucracy.&nbsp;</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-LU-fidrU3Kk/WZSog5ZbBrI/AAAAAAAACBM/aXzVUZZfhT03aHlk8Q7u86XYapqko7TiACLcBGAs/s1600/hopscotchcap2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="800" height="225" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-LU-fidrU3Kk/WZSog5ZbBrI/AAAAAAAACBM/aXzVUZZfhT03aHlk8Q7u86XYapqko7TiACLcBGAs/s400/hopscotchcap2.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Kendig launches one of the most idiosyncratic plans in the annals of spy thrillers: he writes his memoirs and taunts agencies around the globe by mailing them a chapter at a time from various hideouts throughout Europe and America. A terrified Myerson enlists the aid of Kendig's star CIA pupil and number one fan Joe Cutter (Sam Waterston) to “eliminate” the growing threat posed by the rogue retiree. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Matthau was born with drooping jowls and an AARP card, and it's hard to imagine anyone more perfectly suited to the role of the smartass who refuses to be put out to pasture and wants to make sure his bosses know about it (it's equally difficult to believe he was only 59 at the time). Kendig enacts an overly elaborate and risky scheme simply because it amuses him. He could wait until completing his memoirs before sending them to a publisher, but that wouldn't force Myerson the putz to scramble agents across the globe, always trailing one step behind. He knows his phony Southern accent convinces absolutely nobody, but he deploys it anyway just for shits and giggles. And as for where he decides ultimately to set up his headquarters, well, that's the ultimate flipping of the bird.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Though Myerson is exactly the kind of schmuck who would order Kendig to be “eliminated,” viewers will soon catch on that “Hopscotch” is not the kind of film in which Kendig or anyone else will actually get eliminated. Adapted from a more serious novel by Brian Garfield (author of “Death Wish” which inspired the gentle, philosophical film starring Charles Bronson), “Hopscotch” plants tongue firmly in cheek by sending up the paranoia and pretensions of Cold War spycraft, with the full force of the CIA deployed in a low-stakes venture where professional ego, not global security, is all that's on the hook.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Director Ronald Neame claims he had to be dragged kicking and screaming into the project, finally convinced only by the casting of Matthau. The immaculately directed film displays no signs of Neame's initial reluctance, leapfrogging all across the globe with glee and grace while maintaining a delicate comic balance. Though Myerson blusters and Matthau's schemes become implausibly complex at times, Neame (working from a script by Garfield and Bryan Forbes) still paints in naturalistic tones. His CIA men and the requisite Russian counterpart (played by the great character actor Herbert Lom) are entirely plausible buffoons (or, in the case of Cutter, skeptics who would rather see Kendig get away), bundles of righteousness and insecurity working out their neuroses in the field. Occasional dialogue exchanges deflate them with reminders of their numerous publicly-known failures. If there's one shortcoming in the film, it's that the magnetic Glenda Jackson is too often relegated to the sidelines, just waiting around for phone calls from the impish Kendig who gets to have all the fun.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Matthau is just phenomenal in this movie. He's one of the very greatest actors of all-time, so he's phenomenal in just about everything, but every choice he makes here is pitch perfect. Even a small choice like the way Kendig whistles and hums along to his beloved Mozart at strategic points adds layers to the character that no tedious exposition could provide. The supporting cast is great too, but “Hopscotch” is a pure joy to watch just for the sheer spectacle of Matthau operating at his peak.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-EUYtysPhoeM/WZSonAQrVOI/AAAAAAAACBQ/h9FM00uZ_rIJF-Y48WI6O3mNdGdYlN-rwCLcBGAs/s1600/hopscotchcover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="490" data-original-width="348" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-EUYtysPhoeM/WZSonAQrVOI/AAAAAAAACBQ/h9FM00uZ_rIJF-Y48WI6O3mNdGdYlN-rwCLcBGAs/s400/hopscotchcover.jpg" width="283" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b>Video: </b></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The film is presented in a 2.39:1 aspect ratio. This 2K high-def restoration is sharp in detail if not quite eye-popping in terms of depth or vibrancy. I'd rate this a mid-level Criterion effort which means it is very good, but not quite top shelf. I don't have the 2002 SD DVD release from Criterion as a comparison point, but I have no doubt this represents a significant improvement.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b>Audio:</b></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The linear PCM audio mix is crisp and efficient, if not overly dynamic. Dialogue and sound effects are clear, as is the frequent Mozart music. Not much to say here. Optional English subtitles support the English dialogue.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b>Extras:</b></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Criterion hasn't really offered much new for this 2017 Blu-ray upgrade.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">From the 2002 DVD release, they have imported an interview (22 min.) with director Ronald Neame and novelist/screenwriter Brian Garfield. Neame talks about his reluctance to direct the project and the pleasure of working with Walter Matthau, Garfield talks about his interest in following up the violent “Death Wish” with a spy novel in which nobody gets hurt at all. Also imported from the old DVD are a Trailer (3 min.) and a Teaser (2 min.)</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">New for this Blu-ray, Criterion has added an excerpt (22 min.) from a 1980 episode of the “Dick Cavett Show” with Walter Matthau. It's entertaining, but pretty lightweight fare.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The slim fold-out insert booklet features an essay by critic Glenn Kenny.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b>Final Thoughts:</b><br />I had never seen “Hopscotch” before watching it on this disc, and I wasn't expecting much considering the description and my lukewarm reaction to previous Neame films like “The Horse's Mouth” (1958), but I was knocked over by how much I enjoyed this movie. It reminds me a bit of one my favorite '70s films, “Thunderbolt and Lightfoot” (1974), with its relaxed approach to narrative and its wry sense of borderline-absurdist humor. I understand that some look down on “Hopscotch” as a “lesser” entry in the Criterion Collection. I'm here to tell you that's nonsense. “Hopscotch” is an absolute blast.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div>Christopher Longhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05964148369227874063noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4956783167516082390.post-69006936126077764172017-08-07T21:42:00.003-07:002017-08-07T21:42:55.724-07:00The Breaking Point<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-1PzKKJ41NJE/WYlAsr1US4I/AAAAAAAACAs/n36q708NUS0XLKZkZDeydldkSbCcgle1ACLcBGAs/s1600/breakingpointcap1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="252" data-original-width="448" height="225" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-1PzKKJ41NJE/WYlAsr1US4I/AAAAAAAACAs/n36q708NUS0XLKZkZDeydldkSbCcgle1ACLcBGAs/s400/breakingpointcap1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><b>THE BREAKING POINT</b> (Curtiz, 1950)</div><div style="text-align: center;">Criterion Collection, Blu-ray, Release Date Aug 8, 2017</div><div style="text-align: center;">Review by Christopher S. Long</div><br /><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">In the typical film noir one bad decision or wrong turn by the hero enmeshes him in a web of intrigue, plunging him a seedy underworld from which there is little chance of return. Of course, most films noirs are atypical, but “The Breaking Point” (1950) is atypical in a decidedly idiosyncratic fashion.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Harry Morgan (John Garfield) pilots the Sea Queen, a tiny fishing boat, on which he takes Southern California tourists out to fish for marlin or perhaps to get drunk and then lie about what they caught. It's honest work, but times grow ever tougher for Harry, a former soldier who appears to have been left out of the post-WW II boom: “Ever since I took that uniform off, I'm not exactly great.”</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Tapped out after paying for gas and being stiffed by a selfish businessman, Harry reluctantly agrees to take on a group of passengers he knows are up to something illegal. A perilous nighttime trip suggests that he has entered that noir underworld for good but, oddly enough, he quickly calls the whole thing off. Not in time, mind you, not until after something very, very bad has happened which will haunt him to the end of the film, but, still, he cancels the trip and returns home to his devoted wife Lucy (Phyllis Thaxter) and their darling daughters.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The emphasis on the domestic space is what marks “The Breaking Point” as such a strange entry in the genre. Harry's family isn't just there to provide an early reference point from which he departs into uncharted waters, but as a constant presence. Lucy's unwavering love and ferocious loyalty tug constantly on Harry, trying to claw him away from the various noirish forces dragging him under, including a shady lawyer (Wallace Ford) and flirtatious femme fatale Leona (Patricia Neal). Sun shines constantly amidst the gathering gloom, yet Harry still stumbles step by inexorable step toward his doom.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Garfield portrays Harry as a victim of his own self-image as the stoic, macho provider now neutered by a post-war economy to which he has not adjusted, as well as the pressing duties of a family man. All evidence suggests he loves his children and his wife dearly, but as he says to the seductive Leona, a fella can love his wife and still want a little excitement. During the war, he understood what was expected of him, what constituted victory, but now he remains rudderless despite the steadying influence of so many people who care for him, including even Leona who turns out to be a pretty honest and good-hearted femme fatale, looking for love but not overly eager to wreck any homes or tear down any heroes.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Haz2-jFJ-Ys/WYlA2TaZnjI/AAAAAAAACAw/DRyLz2qMhioRo1wrKqZ0-TTquWwxLhRegCLcBGAs/s1600/breakingpointcap2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="248" data-original-width="346" height="228" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Haz2-jFJ-Ys/WYlA2TaZnjI/AAAAAAAACAw/DRyLz2qMhioRo1wrKqZ0-TTquWwxLhRegCLcBGAs/s320/breakingpointcap2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />Director Michael Curtiz was charged with this second Warner Bros. adaptation of Ernest Hemingway's novel “To Have And Have Not.” The film would not match the box office success of the first Bogart-Bacall vehicle, but it hews somewhat more closely to the source (Hemingway allegedly considered it the best film adaptation of his work), supplanting the triumphalism of the original with this more cynical, fatalistic tale. A consummate technician, Curtiz (working with cinematographer Ted McCord) maintains a graceful and mostly unobtrusive style, a steady hand that is equally convincing in soft daylight and hard-edged shadow. He and his crew are particularly adapt at negotiating confined spaces like the cramped Sea Queen, the scene of a genuinely nerve-wracking gun battle. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The script by Ranald MacDougall (the collaborator most interested in pursuing a more faithful Hemingway adaptation) offers a somewhat unwieldy structure. The constant returns to the domestic space and the sometimes static settings (Harry frequently waits around in bars or on his boat until something happens) don't produce a tradition buildup of constantly escalating tension. Rather, the film offers the spectacle of a man inexorably ground down, coming loose from his moorings bit by bit, all of which could easily be avoided... if only he was somebody else.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-WXjoWK06Gm0/WYlA_7cxwEI/AAAAAAAACA0/k4_J5hGQ7XU1akr2wrkZ8aqbV5Uc5-HMgCLcBGAs/s1600/breakingpointcover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="490" data-original-width="348" height="400" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-WXjoWK06Gm0/WYlA_7cxwEI/AAAAAAAACA0/k4_J5hGQ7XU1akr2wrkZ8aqbV5Uc5-HMgCLcBGAs/s400/breakingpointcover.jpg" width="283" /></a></div></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b>Video:</b></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The film is presented in its original 1.37:1 aspect ratio. According to Criterion: “This new digital transfer was created in 2K resolution on a Lasergraphics Director film scanner from a 35 mm safety fine-grain positive made from the original camera negative.” I have not seen the film in any home version before, so I don't have a comparison point, but this 1080p transfer from Criterion has a thick, grainy look with sharp black-and-white contrast and no noticeable signs of artificial boosting to sharpen the image. This transfer excels even by Criterion's demanding standard.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b>Audio:</b></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The linear PCM Mono soundtrack is spare and crisp with no noticeable distortion or drop off at any point. The sound design isn't dynamic, but it's not supposed to be. Optional English subtitles support the English audio. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b>Extras:</b></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Criterion has included a diverse array of shorter supplemental features on this Blu-ray release.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">In a 2017 interview (21 min.), critic Alan K. Rode, author of “Michael Curtiz: A Life in Film,” provides background about the film's production (Kirk Douglas and James Cagney were also considered for the lead) while also arguing for Curtiz to receive acclaim as more than just a laissez-faire craftsman. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The disc also includes the short piece “Visual Style” (10 min.), an analysis of Curtiz's graceful camera work by filmmakers Tony Zhou and Taylor Ramos.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Actress Julie Garfield discusses (17 min.) her father's career from his hard-scrabble younger days to his training in Stanislavsky's method to his career cut short both by false accusations of communism and then by a heart attack at age 39. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">We also take a brief trip to the Hemingway House in Key West in this brief (5 min.) excerpt from the Dec 19, 1962 episode of the “Today” show. Filmed a little over a year after Hemingway's death, this isn't exactly a tour of the house as it consists entirely of three people standing at a desk and rifling through a stack of Hemingway's papers. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">A Theatrical Trailer (2 min.) rounds out the collection.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />The slim fold-out inset booklet features an essay by critic Stephanie Zacharek. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b>Film Value:</b></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">“The Breaking Point” was all but buried by Warner Brothers upon its release, particularly after star John Garfield was accused of being a communist by government propagandists. Some fans today view it as a forgotten film that desperately deserves to be rediscovered. I don't know that I'd quite call it forgotten, but this spiffy Criterion release with a sharp high-def transfer and a solid collection of extras will help make up for any historical injustices the film has suffered. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div>Christopher Longhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05964148369227874063noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4956783167516082390.post-72185857219381879432017-08-06T23:20:00.001-07:002017-08-06T23:20:33.003-07:00Cameraperson<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-fhfVpzfqNsk/WYgGN1Lf5jI/AAAAAAAACAU/FwLdBy_cNuQ7Imc0lI1Hcn3Zey1gtHpKACLcBGAs/s1600/camerapersoncap2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="506" data-original-width="900" height="223" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-fhfVpzfqNsk/WYgGN1Lf5jI/AAAAAAAACAU/FwLdBy_cNuQ7Imc0lI1Hcn3Zey1gtHpKACLcBGAs/s400/camerapersoncap2.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><b>CAMERAPERSON</b> (Johnson, 2016)</div><div style="text-align: center;">Criterion Collection, Blu-ray, Release Date Feb 7, 2017</div><div style="text-align: center;">Review by Christopher S. Long</div><br /> <div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">In “Cameraperson” (2016), veteran documentary cinematographer Kirsten Johnson weaves together footage from twenty-five years worth of her film projects into an intricate and moving memoir that spans both continents and decades. The diverse array of subjects is dizzying, from a harrowing delivery in a Nigerian maternity ward to the reluctant testimony of war crime victims in Bosnia and even to the spectacle of a performative Jacques Derrida holding court on a Manhattan street.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Though she does not appear onscreen in full until the final moments of the movie, Kirsten Johnson's presence is felt in nearly every moment. In a film packed with riveting and sometimes devastating footage, one of the most memorable moments (commented on in at least half the reviews I've read) is also one of the quietest ones. Very early on, a dazzling bolt of lightning stabs down in the distance, prompting a startled gasp from Johnson (off-screen) which is then followed by two quick sneezes, making Johnson's camera wobble just as the film's title pops up, a gentle opening for a film which pays witness to a good deal of trauma.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">In another shot, Johnson's hand enters the frame to clean off a car windshield in Yemen and we hear her off-screen voice often, but, as (re)contextualized in “Cameraperson,” the raw footage itself provides a constant reminder of Johnson's role in its making as the cinematographer, a role few viewers are likely to have given much thought to. The personality that emerges from behind that wide-roving camera is charming, playful, humble, witty, and, above all, deeply and personally engaged with her subjects. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">This is crucial considering the perils aplenty in appropriating footage of documentary subjects (given by request to Johnson from the various directors of her many projects) for a movie they couldn't have known about when they were first filmed. But Johnson's empathy for her subjects spills out from behind the camera to the screen and then overflows the edges of the frame, and foregrounding her involvement with her subjects is one of the keys to the film's ethical and aesthetic structure.&nbsp;</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-v4DhndR4CmM/WYgGbL4k1hI/AAAAAAAACAY/Ou2XNfJLddEr84X5qAs9xSJU1AArr7xAgCLcBGAs/s1600/camerapersoncap3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="253" data-original-width="450" height="223" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-v4DhndR4CmM/WYgGbL4k1hI/AAAAAAAACAY/Ou2XNfJLddEr84X5qAs9xSJU1AArr7xAgCLcBGAs/s400/camerapersoncap3.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Though “Cameraperson” is very much a movie about the workplace (a globe-sized workplace), the footage proves that it was never just a job for Johnson or, perhaps more accurately, that she sees the professional as inextricably intertwined with the personal. Her empathetic eye leads directly to some of the film's most poignant moments, such as when she scrambles to follow a young Brooklyn boxer, stinging and raging from a narrow defeat, as he rushes for a comforting hug from his mother. Johnson's camera practically hugs the two of them, but from a respectful distance. Her instincts produce another memorable moment when an elderly Bosnian woman clearly remains too frightened to speak of the war crimes she witnessed (“I have no problems, and I never did!”) and Johnson brilliantly steers the conversation out of a dead end by asking the woman if she has always dressed so stylishly (“Always!”) You need to be intimately involved with the person you're filming – you need to care – to think of a question like that in such a moment. So much for the tired, debunked, yet stubbornly clinging notion that a documentarian's prime directive is never to interfere. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Johnson gets directly personal by also cutting in footage of her twin babies and then, most unforgettably, of her mother, suffering from advanced Alzheimer's and obviously not always clear about what's going on. This once again raises the specter of exploitation, but the answer to that thorny issue has always been a straightforward but unsatisfying one: you simply have to trust the documentary filmmakers to make responsible and ethical choices. No ideology, no non-fiction manifesto, no stylistic choice guarantees either truth or ethical clarity – only the judgment of the people making the film. By showing all of her work, by exposing herself on such a personal level, bu so clearly asking the tough questions of herself, Johnson provides viewers the access necessary to evaluate her integrity and her acumen.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">“Cameraperson” is one the most remarkably edited films of recent years (with Nels Bangerter credited as editor and Amanda Laws as co-editor), leaping back and forth in time and across continents, chronology and geography subsumed into the film's broader philosophical arguments. After one Bosnian woman's harrowing testimony about systematic rape during civil war, the film cuts abruptly to cheerleaders whipping up the crowd at Penn State. Western viewers who were just wondering “How could they cover up such atrocities over there?” get their answer. Just as important, “Cameraperson” devotes considerable screen time to less overtly dramatic or traumatic footage. Bosnia is the film's most-visited location and it is the source of much trauma and horror, but Johnson also devotes plenty of time to the beauty of the countryside, the fresh food a family harvests, the quiet peaceful moments that make up their lives today. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">I've watched “Camerperson” three times now and I am convinced it's one of the best and most vital films of the decade, so rich and so thoughtful that I still feel inadequate to plumb its depths or describe them. I promised myself a while ago I wouldn't rely on the cop out “You just have to see it yourself” so instead I'll say that I just have to see it again. And then again. Give me another year or two to think about it, and I'll get back to you. That seems only fair. Johnson spend twenty-five years making it, after all.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-jJ9DraqSscA/WYgGhV4hWvI/AAAAAAAACAc/dBhkyC-FF4YwZ57KFw5-P5MD8OOOItE2gCLcBGAs/s1600/camerapersoncover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="490" data-original-width="348" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-jJ9DraqSscA/WYgGhV4hWvI/AAAAAAAACAc/dBhkyC-FF4YwZ57KFw5-P5MD8OOOItE2gCLcBGAs/s400/camerapersoncover.jpg" width="283" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b>Video: </b></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The film is presented in its original 1.78:1 aspect ratios. The footage is culled from many sources, mostly digital. Despite the different sources, the 1080p transfer doesn't vary much in quality – I suspect the biggest challenge was in color correction, striking a balance between a consistent look for “Cameraperson” while also being true to the visual design of the original footage. In any case, the high-def transfer looks quite sharp and pleasing.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b>Audio:</b></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The DTS-HD 5.1 Master surround track is crisp though the sound varies from source to source (the difference in sound among the many clips is more noticeable than the difference in image). Some footage has burned-in subtitles for various languages and Criterion provides an English SDH option for the English dialogue as well. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b>Extras:</b></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">“Editing 'Cameraperson'” (36 min.) provides fascinating insight into the development of the film, especially the considerable changes it underwent during post-production. According to Johnson and collaborators such as editors Amanda Laws and Nels Bangerter, “Cameraperson” began its lengthy journey as a much more “standard” documentary/memoir complete with extensive narration. But realizing that it wasn't quite working, Johnson and crew kept exploring new versions, coming up with what Johnson calls the “trauma cut” which was quite devastating then changing direction for its final, radically different configuration. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">“In the Service of the Film” (39 min.) is a round-table discussion with Johnson, filmmaker Gini Reticker, and sound recordists Wellington Bowler and Judy Karp. It covers some similar ground to the “Editing” piece but expands to discuss different aspects of production, all emphasizing the collaborative nature of the project.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The disc also includes two “Festival Talks.” First, a Q&amp;A session from a 2016 screening at the Traverse City festival (22 min.) with Michael Moore interviewing Johnson on stage, and then an Aug 15, 2016 Q&amp;A session (15 min.) at the Sarajevo Film Festival.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Criterion has also included “The Above” (8 min.), a 2015 short film by Johnson which takes a U.S. military surveillance balloon in Kabul as its focus point, emphasizing how its looming presence affects the lives of people on the ground.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">A Theatrical Trailer (2 min.) rounds out the supplemental features.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The slim fold-out booklet includes an essay by filmmaker Michael Almereyda and also conveniently provides a complete list of the films from which Johnson has culled her footage. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b>Final Thoughts:</b></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">I'll keep it simply. “Cameraperson” is one of the best documentaries of the 21<sup>st</sup> century, and thus also one of the best films of the century. As a documentary memoir it has few peers. I was going to write “though the names Chris Marker and Agnes Varda spring to mind” but I wouldn't want to put that kind of pressure on Kirsten Johnson whose work stands quite proudly on its own. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div>Christopher Longhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05964148369227874063noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4956783167516082390.post-32654709706227305892017-07-26T17:27:00.002-07:002017-07-26T17:27:59.678-07:00Mildred Pierce<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-rQ1cLPYP-Vs/WXkyts-5JLI/AAAAAAAAB_w/gzPyjUkdyQobo--Dn3aL9WBR1UIE5HdjACLcBGAs/s1600/mildredpiercecap2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="404" data-original-width="548" height="293" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-rQ1cLPYP-Vs/WXkyts-5JLI/AAAAAAAAB_w/gzPyjUkdyQobo--Dn3aL9WBR1UIE5HdjACLcBGAs/s400/mildredpiercecap2.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><b>MILDRED PIERCE</b> (Curtiz, 1945)</div><div style="text-align: center;">Criterion Collection, Blu-ray, Release Date Feb 21, 2017</div><div style="text-align: center;">Review by Christopher S. Long</div><br /> <div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">At the intersection of film noir and maternal melodrama sits “Mildred Pierce” (1945), a story of fresh home-made cakes and cold-blooded murder, though not in that order, although actually in that order.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The film opens in a beach house shrouded in night-time shadows where the first clear sound after the title music fades is a volley of gunshots rattled into a man (Zachary Scott) whose congenital shadiness is indicated with forceful economy by the thinness of his mustache. His final word as he drops to the floor is “Mildred” after which said Mildred (Joan Crawford) flees into the night, soon to be brought in by the police for questioning.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Even the most casual filmgoer can quickly figure out that the identity of the shooter wouldn't have been artfully concealed by director Michael Curtiz if it was, indeed, Mildred Pierce, but the film preserves the mystery as Mildred relates her tale of woe to the lead detective in an extended flashback which actually represents the bulk of the James M. Cain novel from which the film was adapted, the juicy murder being added for salacious purposes by the wise folks at Warner Bros.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">In better days, Mildred is a diligent housewife baking cakes to sell to the neighbors and doting on her beloved daughters, teenage Veda (Ann Blyth) and little Kay (Jo Ann Marlowe). Diligent, but not happy. Her marriage is already on the rocks and soon ends with husband Bert (Bruce Bennett) moving out to live with another woman. When Mildred breaks the bad news to the kids, Veda turns out to be far more interested in the new dress that just arrived for her, the first indication that this seemingly formulaic story of marital strife is about to take a decidedly idiosyncratic turn.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Bert's fires a nasty parting shot at Mildred: “Let's see how you get along without me!” She proceeds to get along fabulously, parlaying her experience in the kitchen first into a gig as a waitress, then as a savvy entrepreneuse with an ever-expanding chain of restaurants that can barely accommodate the bustling crowds. The ring of spotlights flooding the night sky above the newest Mildred's announces to all nearby that the American Dream is alive and well and fully achievable through hard work and grit.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Rl4JKjl7ZOc/WXky3IkE1vI/AAAAAAAAB_0/CV2zXrcpBRcFLS93BNeuPRShc4Ut62BbACLcBGAs/s1600/mildredpiercecap1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="252" data-original-width="448" height="225" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Rl4JKjl7ZOc/WXky3IkE1vI/AAAAAAAAB_0/CV2zXrcpBRcFLS93BNeuPRShc4Ut62BbACLcBGAs/s400/mildredpiercecap1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Yet Mildred is desperately in love, and it's an all-consuming love that will undermine all of her accomplishments. She's not in love with Bert, not anymore, nor with pushy. predatory real estate broker Wally (Jack Carson), and not even with creepy mustache guy from the opening. No, in a clever twist on the amour fou formula, Mildred obsesses endleslsy over Veda, her spoiled, icy-cold, sociopathic daughter, and she will do anything and risk anything to win her girl's love, though she's probably aware no such thing exists. Considering the sorry display of feckless manhood in the film, it's not as if Mildred was blessed with many outlets for her affections. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">After playing the sweet teen ingenue in a few musicals the year before, 16-year-old Ann Blyth portrays Veda as the baddest of seeds, a brat who sees herself as entitled to all privilege and ashamed of the mother willing to work (“My mother, a waitress!”) to provide it all for her. Able to lie and fake-cry at a moment's notice, Veda is one of the strangest and most intimidating femmes fatales of the noir cycle, twisting her hapless mother around her bloodless little finger, toying with her for sport. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Mildred's doting approach to motherhood comes in for criticism by Bert, by her flinty friend Ida (Eve Arden), and most pointedly by Veda herself when she speaks her only truthful words, “It's your fault I'm the way that I am.” Mildred's unwavering devotion collapses into full-blown pathology and has left a few viewers exasperated with her destructive dependency (and also prompting a delightful <a href="https://youtu.be/fLfSiKI3DsM?t=297">Carol Burnett parody</a>) but her unhealthy relationship with Veda is hardly unique. I can't help but be reminded of Anthony Trollope's 1875 masterpiece “The Way We Live Now” and the dandyish, dissolute Sir Felix Carbury, an idler who takes responsibility for nothing, cries every time someone holds him responsible for his actions, and is enabled by a mother who covers for his every offense. Sir Felix may be the most infuriating literary character I've ever encountered (oh, the sweet, sweet beatdown he finally takes!), demanding that everyone cater to his whims and running back to mommy every time he encounters the slightest obstacle. Felix and Veda are soulmates, but she would chew him up and spit him out on his skinny fop ass. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">“Mildred Pierce” netted Joan Crawford her only Oscar and revitalized her flagging career, paving the route to some of her juiciest roles: “Possessed” (1947), “Daisy Kenyon” (1947), “Sudden Fear” (1952), and cinephile holy grail “Johnny Guitar” (1954). Crawford considered it her finest work and spoke of it often and fondly in later-career interviews. The film has since become a cult-favorite, still playing to sold out houses in repertory screenings over seventy years later.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-QBa364CCzxc/WXky8wKkGGI/AAAAAAAAB_4/XT19p7w7dEMzH-YYKcX4keAwQUz4YYulwCLcBGAs/s1600/mildredpiercecover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="490" data-original-width="348" height="400" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-QBa364CCzxc/WXky8wKkGGI/AAAAAAAAB_4/XT19p7w7dEMzH-YYKcX4keAwQUz4YYulwCLcBGAs/s400/mildredpiercecover.jpg" width="283" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b>Video: </b></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The film is presented in its original 1.37:1 aspect ratio. From Criterion: “This new digital transfer was created in 4K resolution … primarily from the 35 mm original nitrate camera negative. Some sequences, including the entire last reel of the film, were scanned from a 35 mm nitrate fine-grain master held by the Museum of Modern Art in New York and a 35 mm safety fine-grain master.” I didn't notice any difference in the final reel, or any other sections that might have been sourced from different prints. Overall, the black-and-white contrast is sharp and rich with plenty of detail apparent even in the darker sequences which show only modest signs of boosting. A few bits of minor damage are visible on occasion, but not much. Overall, the typical strong 1080p transfer from Criterion. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">You can watch <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qdRfuQ8Y8rU">this short video</a> about the film's restoration from Criterion on YouTube. This video has not been included on the disc as an extra.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b>Audio:</b></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The linear PCM mono track is solid if unremarkable. Dialogue, effects, and music are crisp and clear, though not particularly dynamic. No complaints. Optional English subtitles support the English audio. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b>Extras:</b></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Criterion has included a mixture of new and older supplemental features for this Blu-ray release.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The longest extra was included on the old Warner Brothers DVD release. “Joan Crawford: The Ultimate Movie Star” (2002, 87 min.) is directed by Peter Fitzgerald. This feature, narrated by Anjelica Huston, was made with the contribution of Crawford's daughter Christina and provides a career-length portrait of a highly-motivated professional who wasn't able to find as much time for her family as for her long and celebrated career. There's not as much film-specific content as one might like, but the feature covers a lot of ground in a short period of time.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Criterion serves up one brand new interview (2016, 23 min.) in which film critics Molly Haskell and Robert Polito discuss the film's cross-genre elements, the changes from the Cain novel, and a host of other issues.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Several other archival interviews have also been included. We get an excerpt (15 min.) from the Jan 8, 1970 “David Frost Show” in which Crawford reveals that her favorite food is pork chops. Next is a Q&amp;A sesssion (24 min.) from the Castro Theatre in San Francisco, featuring guest star Ann Blyth at a 2006 screening of “Mildred Pierce.” The final piece is my favorite on the disc, an excerpt from the Nov 26, 1969 episode of “The Today Show” with Hugh Downs interviewing novelist James M. Cain, who holds court on a host of social issues and admits that he doesn't get Norman Mailer at all.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The final extra is a Theatrical Trailer (2 min.)</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The slim fold-out insert booklet features an essay by critic Imogen Sara Smith. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b>Final Thoughts:</b></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Critic Manny Farber found “Mildred Pierce” to be “badly hoked-up” and viewed Mildred as “a fool.” There's little doubt that the melodramatic story is overwrought at times, but that's hardly distinguishes it from many other melodramas. I don't think the film's a masterpiece, but Crawford's wonderful, and Ann Blyth repeatedly strikes the same single note in a convincingly chilly manner. And you're unlikely to ever see the film looking better than on this Criterion high-deg transfer. </div>Christopher Longhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05964148369227874063noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4956783167516082390.post-44888466182889517532017-07-21T09:48:00.001-07:002017-07-21T09:48:37.807-07:00Stalker<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-OUMoQRp0fMI/WXIvQHou_lI/AAAAAAAAB_I/eFmUkErjLNIq5rtP183BpiFG_upCudgogCLcBGAs/s1600/stalkercap1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="252" data-original-width="448" height="225" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-OUMoQRp0fMI/WXIvQHou_lI/AAAAAAAAB_I/eFmUkErjLNIq5rtP183BpiFG_upCudgogCLcBGAs/s400/stalkercap1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><b>STALKER</b> (Tarkovsky, 1979)</div><div style="text-align: center;">Criterion Collection, Blu-ray, Release Date July 18, 2017</div><div style="text-align: center;">Review by Christopher S. Long</div><br /> <div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Plot Summary: The Stalker (Alexander Kaidanovsky) guides two other men, the Writer (Anatoly Solonitsyn) and the Professor (Nikolai Grinko) into the Zone, a dangerous and heavily guarded territory left behind by alien visitors (or maybe it was a meteor) some years ago. They infiltrate the Zone in search of the Room, located either a few hundred yards or a million miles from the Zone's outer border, a space where they hope to achieve their deepest desires.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">There, now you know precisely nothing about Andrei Tarkovsky's “Stalker” (1979), loosely (and I mean loosely) adapted from the science-fiction novel “Roadside Picnic” by Boris and Arkady Strugatsky, at least nothing of much relevance. You're welcome. I'll try to be more a bit more helpful.&nbsp;</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-lvEEKADPZ5A/WXIveWmKm6I/AAAAAAAAB_M/uPsnU5PtFXwQPAl327LACNO8PC_0YO4pACLcBGAs/s1600/stalkercap3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="787" data-original-width="1400" height="223" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-lvEEKADPZ5A/WXIveWmKm6I/AAAAAAAAB_M/uPsnU5PtFXwQPAl327LACNO8PC_0YO4pACLcBGAs/s400/stalkercap3.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">When I think of “Stalker,” I think of skulls. The three men's heads are balding, closely-shaved, and the camera lingers on their oblong craniums from behind, in front, and above, following closely (stalking) while they trudge slowly through the knee-deep water of the industrial wasteland of the Zone or clinging skull-tight as they sit or lie in the undulating grass and shifting sand dunes, contemplating where to move next, or whether there's still any point in moving at all. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">When I think of “Stalker,” I think of the pollution. Tarkovsky may well have captured the single most fetid landscape in all of cinema. We might expect the “meatgrinder” sewer pipes to swell with waste, but the surface water teems with glistening oil as well, positively reeking of chemical effluent. No wonder the geography of the Zone shifts constantly, rendering even the seemingly straightest of paths a Mobius strip to nowhere – the Zone writhes in silent, unending torment.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">When I think of “Stalker,” I think of how startlingly beautiful the film is despite this most devastated of landscapes. After all, the scenes outside of the Zone are filmed in drab, monochromatic sepia only to explode Oz-like into full color after the men cross an indeterminate barrier – not a Rubicon, they can turn around any time they want, but a definitive break into another realm, nonetheless, perhaps into the uncharted land of their own minds.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-DRjn45upe8E/WXIvwI4jkEI/AAAAAAAAB_Q/AMWficOihC8h_rVrbcrNedGYH_Hp2OT7QCLcBGAs/s1600/stalkercap2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="800" height="225" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-DRjn45upe8E/WXIvwI4jkEI/AAAAAAAAB_Q/AMWficOihC8h_rVrbcrNedGYH_Hp2OT7QCLcBGAs/s400/stalkercap2.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Everything about “Stalker” screams for a metaphorical interpretation – naming your characters only Stalker, Writer, and Professor certainly points viewers in that direction. But Tarkovsky said, “The Zone doesn't symbolize anything, any more than anything else does in my films; the Zone is a zone, it's life, and as he makes his way across it a man may break down or he may come through.” Many directors resist having their work pigeon-holed and it's reasonable to accuse Tarkovsky of playing coy here, but I choose to take him at face value. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Though the Stalker approaches the Zone with faith, as a holy seer of sorts (or at least as an aspirant), he winds up as lost as the Writer and the Professor. They stumble half-blindly through one maze-like section of the Zone after another, sometimes only to wind up back where they started, wasting time on ill-considered detours, yet stubbornly plunging ahead, all to reach a destination that may well prove to be a terrible disappointment. They ask a lot of questions along the way in lengthy, heady philosophical debates that straddle the border between profundity and sophistry, but find few answers, just more Zone to traverse. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">All of which sure sounds like life to me. No clear path, no easy answers. Perhaps no destination at all, just the journey itself, made meaningful precisely my making it, and then making of it what you will. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Of course there's much more to the film. Much more than I've grasped yet. I haven't even mentioned the Stalker's wife and daughter, whom a cheeky critic could argue are the actual main characters of the story, though they spend most of it off-screen. Or how gloriously, rapturously slow “Stalker” is. Tarkovsky spoke often about sculpting with time, and his camera holds unwavering on lengthy shots of men walking or not moving at all, on fields of grass rippling in the breeze, yielding boredom in some viewers, hyper-attentive awareness to detail in others, carving out a contemplative space. If you fall into the latter camp, you might find yourself returning obsessively to the Zone, as thousands of other viewers have, searching for... but, no, just focus on the journey itself, and an immersive audiovisual experience like few others. “Stalker” joins “2001: A Space Odyssey” as one of the few films worthy of being considered “the ultimate trip.”&nbsp;</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-c7FvoqOIf8s/WXIwGOGGi1I/AAAAAAAAB_U/vqRCuxjqdI8ZdrYzDV_q4M6Rf9f66xrdACLcBGAs/s1600/stalkercover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="490" data-original-width="348" height="400" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-c7FvoqOIf8s/WXIwGOGGi1I/AAAAAAAAB_U/vqRCuxjqdI8ZdrYzDV_q4M6Rf9f66xrdACLcBGAs/s400/stalkercover.jpg" width="283" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b>Video: </b></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">“Stalker” recently completed a successful theatrical re-release with a new restoration from Mosfilm Studios, and this high-def transfer from Criterion is sourced from that restoration. “Stalker” mixes sepia-toned monochromatic sequences with naturalistic color ones and employed three cinematographers. With most of the principal filmmakers dead, nobody can confirm how close this restoration matches the original intent, but this 1080p transfer most certainly looks fantastic. Image detail is sharp throughout, the bright colors look rich and subtle, and the sepia that I used to think looked rather wan to a slightly distracting degree now looks better as well. I have no idea if some of the film's fanatical partisans are debating the “authenticity” of this Criterion release, but I've never seen the film looking any better (alas, I didn't get to catch it in a theater over the spring.)</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The film is presented in its original 1.37:1 aspect ratio (as always, photos in this review are not taken from the Blu-ray).&nbsp; </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b>Audio:</b></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The linear PCM mono track has an unusually dynamic sound for a monaural track. In “Stalker” the sound design is just as crucial a creative element as the visuals and this lossless mix really makes the distinct sound effects stand out, along with the spare score by Eduard Artemyev. Optional English subtitles support the Russian audio. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b>Extras:</b></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">As exciting as it is to have “Stalker” available with a great new high-def transfer and a sharp audio mix, the relative lack of supplemental features is mildly disappointing. Fans might have expected a film of this stature to arrive packed to the gills both with historical features and scholarly analysis. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Perhaps the heftiest features were tied up in rights controversies, but the only substantial extra included is a new interview (29 min.) with Geoff Dyer, author of “Zona: A Book About A Film About a Journey to a Room.” Dyer really loves “Stalker.” I mean, really, really loves it. A few years ago, in addition to writing his book on the experience of watching the film over and over again,<a href="https://www.theguardian.com/film/2009/feb/06/andrei-tarkovsky-stalker-russia-gulags-chernobyl"> he also wrote</a> “...it's not enough to say that 'Stalker' is a great film – it's the reason cinema was invented.” Dyer takes a half hour to talk about his experiences with the film, from his impatience on his first encounter with this “slow” movie to how easily he gets sucked back into the Zone at each new screening he attends. He begins with the interview with caution about “permanently inhabiting the land of the superlative” regarding the film, but, well, that's just his zone. And he makes it work.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The other extras are all older interviews, with the film's composer Eduard Artemyev (2000, 21 min.), set designed Rashit Safiullin (2000, 14 min.), and cinematographer Alexander Knyazhinsky (1996, 6 min.), the latter filmed in his hospital room shortly before his death.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The slim fold-out insert booklet includes an essay by critic Mark Le Fanu.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b>Final Thoughts:</b></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Final thoughts? How can you have final thoughts on a journey that's just getting started? I'll settle for saying that while Criterion's release doesn't offer the bevy of extra we might have hoped for, the image and sound on this version are immaculate, and that's more than enough to make this a must-own for any Tarkovsky fan. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div>Christopher Longhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05964148369227874063noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4956783167516082390.post-62692599359885000852017-07-18T20:58:00.000-07:002017-07-19T10:27:02.965-07:00L'argent<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-M3MjwRK3gAs/WW7X6WUzLvI/AAAAAAAAB-k/J6IoVgiPN7Yw6PZQ2Zru0DuVbhqTNqGSwCLcBGAs/s1600/largentcap3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="506" data-original-width="900" height="223" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-M3MjwRK3gAs/WW7X6WUzLvI/AAAAAAAAB-k/J6IoVgiPN7Yw6PZQ2Zru0DuVbhqTNqGSwCLcBGAs/s400/largentcap3.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><b>L'ARGENT</b> (Bresson, 1983)</div><div style="text-align: center;">Criterion Collection, Blu-ray, Release Date July 11, 2017</div><div style="text-align: center;">Review by Christopher S. Long</div><br /><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">An old man walks down the street while reading a newspaper. He passes by a parked car in which our protagonist, Yvon (Christian Patey), sits quietly and looks straight ahead. Several police cars speed by, sirens blaring. The old man continues walking until he sees three men, presumably police officers, crouching behind their cars, so still they could be sculptures. The old man hurries away. Across the street, another man (who we can't see clearly) walks out of a bank, holding a woman in front of him. One of the crouching men very deliberately aims his gun. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Cut back to Yvon as he sits in his car still staring blankly. A single gunshot rings out off-screen, but if Yvon hears it, he does not react. The robber retreats cautiously back into the bank - who fired at whom and why doesn’t anyone seem to be panicking? Cut back to Yvon once again as a volley of gunshots rattles off-screen. He reaches deliberately for the ignition and starts the car. Hold on an extended closeup of Yvon’s hands (it's always hands with Bresson) on the steering wheel as more sounds play out off-screen: shouts, police whistles, etc. We finally cut to an exterior shot of Yvon’s vehicle as a police car pulls alongside him. Yvon, his expression still blank, shifts the car into drive and peels out.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">It’s the strangest, most subdued bank heist you’ve ever seen on film, and it is also a text book example of the idiosyncratic style of the great French director Robert Bresson. At least three quintessentially Bressonian features are on display here. First, there's Bresson’s oft-discussed approach to acting. He employed non-professional actors, whom he described as “models,” and trained them to perform as automatically and mechanically as possible, often using multiple takes to wear them out: the goal was for the models to act without inflection, often resulting in the stoic, passive “Bresson face.” (For more discussion of Bresson’s use of models, please check out my review of <a href="http://www.dvdblureview.com/2015/09/au-hasard-balthazar.html">“Au hasard Balthazar”</a>.)</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Second, this scene offers an instructional lesson on Bresson’s revolutionary approach to sound. For Bresson, sound and image are often redundant, and if the two work together they do not necessarily reinforce each other but sometimes cancel each other out. If a sound conveys the essential meaning of the scene, there is simply no need to show a similar image as well. Therefore, when we hear the volley of gunshots and the whistles, we do not see the police shooting at the robbers, but rather Yvon’s hands as they rest limply on the steering wheel as if awaiting further instructions from their master. As for what precisely occurs at the bank, we are left to wonder - in Bresson’s view, the ear is more imaginative than the eye, and sound is not merely the bastard child of image.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Third, Bresson’s emphasis on economy and precision (“L’Argent” runs at just 81 minutes) is evident in this scene. Bresson ruthlessly stripped away all extraneous elements from his films, until he was left with only the essential elements required to tell the story. After Yvon speeds away, we see a brief car chase which Bresson conveys by two primary images: Yvon’s feet as they switch from the accelerator to the brake, and a shot of the police cruiser as seen in the side mirror of Yvon’s car. Cut back and forth between these two shots a few times and… there’s your car chase. It is also worth noting that this is not merely economical from an artistic point of view but from a pragmatic perspective as well - Bresson seldom worked with big budgets.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-oOS8SihvfN8/WW7Yabw97mI/AAAAAAAAB-s/kjMeFpoum-ITMAR5kl3vCcBmbBeuswWrwCLcBGAs/s1600/largentcap2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="800" height="225" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-oOS8SihvfN8/WW7Yabw97mI/AAAAAAAAB-s/kjMeFpoum-ITMAR5kl3vCcBmbBeuswWrwCLcBGAs/s400/largentcap2.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">These three elements (among others) defined Bresson’s films for the bulk of his career and combined to produced one of the most distinct, hermetic, and endlessly fascinating bodies of work in all of cinema. If Bresson had not perfected these techniques (how is such a thing possible?), he had finely tuned them by the time he directed “L’Argent” (“Money”) in 1983 at the age of 82, and it was the last film the French master would ever make. Bresson, who died in 1999, intended to continue directing, but was unable to secure financing for his long-planned adaptation of the Book of Genesis, and he unofficially retired by the end of the 1980s. Fortunately, Bresson’s final film is also one of his greatest. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">“L’Argent” is loosely based on Tolstoy's short story “The Counterfeit Note” which also translates as “The Forged Note” or “The False Coupon.” The film adaptation, updated to contemporary France, begins with two young men who pass off counterfeit bills to a local photography shop. The store owners discover that the bills are forged, but don’t want to get stuck with the loss so they, in turn, pass them on to Yvon Targe, the young man who delivers heating oil to their store. After Yvon is caught with the counterfeit money, he returns to the store with the police in order to prove his innocence, but the owners pretend not to recognize him. From this point, Yvon’s fate is sealed and his situation degenerates from bad to worse to unspeakable. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">“L’Argent” traces the spread of evil (flowing by the same route as capital) from its first flowering to its final violent explosion. As the counterfeit notes change hands, they leave destruction in their wake and nobody escapes fully unscathed. In the opening scene, a young man asks for a handout from his father; in the climactic scene a homicidal Yvon has only one question to ask: “Where’s the money?”&nbsp;</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ghuPiQGXINA/WW7YIO-6Q9I/AAAAAAAAB-o/3wQ7SWwl1MwQuhlFoCtgW7-EGhKigH02wCEwYBhgL/s1600/largentcap4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="242" data-original-width="400" height="241" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ghuPiQGXINA/WW7YIO-6Q9I/AAAAAAAAB-o/3wQ7SWwl1MwQuhlFoCtgW7-EGhKigH02wCEwYBhgL/s400/largentcap4.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Bresson believed in predestination (or maybe not – it's a thing critics have often written but it's a lot more complex than that) and Yvon is an innocent victim fated to be laid low by circumstances beyond his control. He is not merely falsely imprisoned but is actually transformed by the system; once released from jail, he decides he might as well become the monster everyone thinks he is. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Bresson’s films are often considered to be pessimistic and grim, but “L’Argent” ramps that dark vision up to a new level. In many of Bresson’s films, the characters achieve a kind of grace or even redemption by way of their suffering, but there is little, if any, sense of redemption in “L’Argent,” the ending of which is one of the bleakest notes in cinema. Except maybe in “Au hasard Balthazar.” Here you can choose from two Bresson quotes: one in which he described himself as a “jolly pessimist” and another in which he rejected the dourness ascribed to his vision: “You are confusing pessimism with lucidity.”</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Like most of Bresson’s films, “L’Argent” accumulates its remarkable affective power through its puritanical restraint. Yvon remains an opaque figure with a blank expression even as he transforms from an innocent working class man into a remorseless killer. We could easily imagine the Hollywood version of the same story with a classically-trained method actor raving and gibbering and chewing the scenery with dramatic music to underscore the transition, but Bresson does not pursue that route. Nor does he linger on any of the typical gory elements. As he does in the car chase, Bresson simply picks a few objective details and deploys them to convey an entire scene. Bresson’s tendency to elide the main action is so pronounced in “L’Argent” that even an attentive viewer might miss altogether the fact that, in one sequence, Yvon murders two hotel owners. The ending is all the more potent and unnerving because of the sense of clinical detachment cultivated by Bresson; we are all invited to consider the proceedings with the dispassionate eye of a coroner rather than as a sympathetic and involved viewer.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">We do not quite know why Yvon does what he does or why he selects his victims. Bresson’s cinema is one of surfaces, not psychology – which is to say it's grown-up cinema. Character is revealed only through behavior, not through exposition or analysis. There are no “character moments” offered as a sop to the audience, and Yvon’s sudden decision to cross the line into violence comes as a shock as we have not been prepared for it as we might expect. Bresson provides the what - the viewer, if he or she simply must, provides the why.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-S6LLXEbzQk0/WW7YhQqqq1I/AAAAAAAAB-w/lJLQb6_NkdgZ-7YIAwO_Y-omunLfbOnCQCLcBGAs/s1600/largentcover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="490" data-original-width="348" height="400" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-S6LLXEbzQk0/WW7YhQqqq1I/AAAAAAAAB-w/lJLQb6_NkdgZ-7YIAwO_Y-omunLfbOnCQCLcBGAs/s400/largentcover.jpg" width="283" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b>Video: </b></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">“L'argent” was released on <a href="http://www.dvdblureview.com/2016/09/largent.html">DVD by New Yorker</a> back in 2005 and as much as I love and miss that dearly departed label, this Criterion 1080p upgrade puts the old transfer to shame, and then some. The difference is considerable that I've decided to post the Criterion release as a separate review instead of just adding sections to my old New Yorker review.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The film is presented in its original 1.66:1 aspect ratio. “This new 2K restoration was undertaken from the 35 mm original camera negative” and the improvement in the high-def image reveals much more detail while also providing warmer, more naturalistic colors. It's hard to imagine the film ever looking any better than this on home release.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b>Audio:</b></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The linear PCM mono track is crisp and a very welcome upgrade that highlights Bresson's meticulous sound design, from the loud snaps of clothespins to the whining of a dog. Just as Bresson suggested sound could be more important than image, this audio upgrade may be more important than the sharper picture. Optional English subtitles support the French audio.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /><b>Extras:</b></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Kent Jones's commentary track on the old New Yorker DVD may be my favorite commentary of all time, and it's a great disappointment Criterion didn't include it here. Perhaps there were licensing rights. Jones's commentary is so exceptional I would still recommend the New Yorker release, even with its inferior transfer, solely for his contribution.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">However, as sorely as Jones's commentary is missed (and not replaced by any other commentary track), Criterion has included what may be their best extra of the year, a 50-minute visual analysis by critic James Quandt. In “L'argent, A to Z,” Quandt covers an astonishing array of topics while somehow managing not to skimp on anything, providing an essential primer on Bresson's unique working style and philosophy, touching on Bresson's emphasis on sound (silence) and his various artistic influences, and so very much more. If you're looking for an informative and accessible introduction to Bresson, Quandt's essay is your go-to choice.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The disc also includes a May 16, 1983 press conference (30 min.) at the Cannes Film Festival, including Bresson and most of his cast. He is typically elusive and absolutely magnificent. The only other feature is a very short (26 sec.) trailer.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The insert booklet includes a new essay by critic Adrian Martin and a transcript of a 1983 interview with Bresson conducted by critic Michel Ciment. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b>Final Thoughts:</b></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Twelve years ago, I asked if “L'argent” was the greatest final film by an esteemed director. I suppose “Eyes Wide Shut” is a serious contender, but there's no need to choose. I had some vague concerns when I screen “L'argent” for a film class a few years ago, but my students were blown away, which affirms both their taste and Bresson's accomplishment. How much do I love Bresson? Sometimes I think both that “L'argent” is my favorite film and yet not even my favorite Bresson. Yes, he's so great he generates his own paradoxical field. And he's even greater than that. This Criterion release is a bit light on extras, but the Quandt essay is sensational and the high-def transfer a thing of beauty. </div>Christopher Longhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05964148369227874063noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4956783167516082390.post-51251127574044508912017-06-20T11:15:00.002-07:002017-06-20T11:15:56.449-07:00Ugetsu<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8zhO2tGoidA/WUllspq8D1I/AAAAAAAAB-I/bDAVA36iZVcqJ8AL2OxAyDDWuj2YpyihQCLcBGAs/s1600/ugetsucap3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="506" data-original-width="900" height="223" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8zhO2tGoidA/WUllspq8D1I/AAAAAAAAB-I/bDAVA36iZVcqJ8AL2OxAyDDWuj2YpyihQCLcBGAs/s400/ugetsucap3.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><b>UGETSU</b> (Mizoguchi, 1953)</div><div style="text-align: center;">Criterion Collection, Blu-ray, Release Date June 6, 2017</div><div style="text-align: center;">Review by Christopher S. Long</div><br /> <div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">For a sample of Kenji Mizoguchi's unique genius, I point you to one brief but memorable scene in the middle of “Ugetsu” (1953).</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Tobei (Sakae Ozawa), one of the film's main characters, is a poor villager who dreams of becoming a samurai. In order to do so, he must first secure his own set of armor and weapons. He decides his only hope is to steal this expensive treasure from someone else, and goes out in search of a likely candidate. We have all watched similar scenes in movies before: our hero needs a quick change of clothing so he knocks out some poor faceless nobody (listed as HENCHMAN #1 in the screenplay) to get what he needs. No fuss, no muss. We don’t give the nameless goon another thought.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Mizoguchi adopts a different approach. As Tobei skulks along in the shadows, the film cuts to a conversation between two new characters, a general and one of his samurai. The general has been mortally wounded, and he orders his soldier to behead him to end the suffering. The samurai does as he is told, then turns from his revered master and stumbles away. With tears welling up in his eyes, he is about to sit down to gather his emotions. Just then, Tobei leaps out and stabs the vulnerable warrior to death, claiming the general’s head as his own kill and parlaying it into a short-lived stint as a full-fledged samurai in his own right.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">What a startling and powerful scene. How are we supposed to feel about Tobei now? Can we ever forget the samurai and his general, characters glimpsed for a few fleeting moments? This it the special brilliance of Mizoguchi, at least in his best films (which is most of them): the ability to breathe life into every character and to weave a complex web of relationships among them.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">We see this sensibility at play again in the central sequence of “Ugetsu.” Genjuro (Masayuki Mori), our main protagonist, is a potter who brings his wares to the big city in hopes of scoring a major sale. There he meets Lady Wakasa (Machiko Kyo, who also played the woman in “Rashomon”) who asks him to bring his finest crafts to her manor. There he falls madly in love with her; as if in a fever dream, he forgets about his wife and child and agrees to marry the Lady. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Pretty soon we realize that Wakasa is not your typical lady, but rather a ghost (the pale-white make-up is a hint, the disembodied voice of her dead father is a better one). Genjuro languishes helplessly in her clutches until he meets a traveling priest who gives him the power to break free of her spell. But rather than a scene full of spooky howls and flickering candles, Mizoguchi fashions an emotionally resonant confrontation. A tearful Wakasa begs Genjuro to stay with her. Her nurse (also a ghost) explains that Wakasa died young without knowing the love of a man - isn’t she entitled to some happiness even in death? The scene is wrenching. We understand why Genjuro wants to escape; he has a family of his own, after all, and he must remain among the living. But he also promised his love to Wakasa, who returned it tenfold, though perhaps too much for a mere mortal to handle. Everyone is both right and wrong in his or her own way and each of the characters is fully alive (even the dead ones) in this dynamic and complex scene.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-gs8yJjwZ_LA/WUlmCOHzP_I/AAAAAAAAB-M/XMc4TsU7g7YGNVqPY7BD9kGbVeyH9Fq7gCLcBGAs/s1600/ugetsucap1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="252" data-original-width="448" height="225" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-gs8yJjwZ_LA/WUlmCOHzP_I/AAAAAAAAB-M/XMc4TsU7g7YGNVqPY7BD9kGbVeyH9Fq7gCLcBGAs/s400/ugetsucap1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">“Ugetsu” is more frequently listed as “Ugetsu monogatari” which translates roughly as ‘Tales of Moonlight and Rain”, the title of an 18<sup>th</sup>-century collection of ghost stories by Akinari Ueda. Ueda’s collection, along with a short story by Guy de Maupassant (“How He Got the Legion of Honor”), provides the inspiration for the film, though Mizoguchi and screenwriters Matsutaro Kawaguchi and Yoshikata Yoda (one of Mizoguchi’s most frequent collaborators) relocate the story to 19<sup>th</sup>-century Japan. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The story concerns two couples: Genjuro and his wife Miyagi (Mizoguchi regular Kinuyo Tanaka) and Tobei and his wife Ohama (Mitsuko Mito). Each of the husbands is blinded by ambition (Genjuro for gold, Tobei to become a samurai) and each subjects his wife to terrible hardship as a result of it. As is typical in a Mizoguchi film, the women must make terrible sacrifices due to the selfishness of the men in their lives. Each woman meets a separate bad fate, and both husbands get the opportunity to atone for their sins though each in a very different manner. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Ghosts travel freely among the living. Japan, as depicted in “Ugetsu,” is a country ravaged by civil war, and the violence has so brutally scarred the landscape that the border between this world and the afterlife has blurred beyond recognition. One of the many great pleasures in “Ugetsu” is the naturalistic approach Mizoguchi takes to his various ghosts and spirits. Lady Wakasa walks through the marketplace like any other customer. Ghosts do not jump out of walls screaming “Boo!” but are integrated into the domestic space. One character returns as a ghost only to cook a pot of stew and tidy up. A ghost ship encountered on the lake is both real and not real at the same time, and it is certainly a tangible object.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Like Ozu, Mizoguchi films most of his scenes in long master shots with minimal editing within any single scene. Unlike Ozu, Mizoguchi moves his camera constantly (most of the scenes were shot with the camera on a crane), gliding both horizontally and vertically to create a gentle, lyrical effect. I am tempted to push my interpretation a little too far and claim that the hovering camera haunts the film, but I will resist the urge. “Ugetsu” is a beautiful film even if the people in it are sometimes ugly. Full credit is due to renowned cinematographer Kazuo Miyagawa whose black-and-white photography is simply breathtaking.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">“Ugetsu” often places very highly in critical polls, and is usually considered Mizoguchi’s masterpiece. I actually prefer two other Mizoguchi films (also critical favorites): “The Story of the Late (or Last) Chrysanthemums” (1939), and especially “Sansho the Bailiff” (1954), one of the most devastating films I have ever watched. Regardless, “Ugetsu” is one of the defining films not only of Japanese cinema but all of cinema, and your film knowledge is incomplete until you have seen this gem. More than once.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-LAf1yGeDF1k/WUlmHqtE3yI/AAAAAAAAB-Q/0VOsB9MZEyAHKah0VONSZuZeGT-lRpEOgCLcBGAs/s1600/ugetsucover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="490" data-original-width="348" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-LAf1yGeDF1k/WUlmHqtE3yI/AAAAAAAAB-Q/0VOsB9MZEyAHKah0VONSZuZeGT-lRpEOgCLcBGAs/s400/ugetsucover.jpg" width="283" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b>Video:</b></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The film is presented in its original 1.37:1 aspect ratio. The 2005 Criterion SD release of “Ugetsu” (in 1.33:1) was strong but displayed a considerable amount of damage from the source material, particularly some prominent scratches. This newly-sourced restoration eliminated many, though not all, of the scratches and other signs of damage, though a bit of flicker and the occasional soft shot still crop up. That's a minor complaint for an impressive 1080p transfer which represents a substantial improvement over the old SD in just about every way, even strengthening the already solid black-and-white contrast, and which justifies a double-dip purchase all by itself.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b>Audio:</b></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The LPCM mono mix is crisp with just the occasional moment of slight dropoff. It sounds fairly hollow throughout, but this is due to the source and actually works quite well for such a haunted film. Optional English subtitles support the Japanese audio.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b>Extras:</b></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The 2005 Criterion SD consisted of two DVDs in separate cases both tucked into the cardboard case. This 2017 Blu-ray upgrade imports all of the extras from the prior release but includes them all on a single disc with a fold-out case, inside of which the insert booklet is tucked. The keep case is then placed inside of a cardboard slip case with the same cover art as the 2005 case.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The film is accompanied by a full-length commentary track by critic Tony Rayns which matches his usual level of eloquence and excellence. The disc also includes three interviews. “Two Worlds Intertwined” is a 14-min. interview with director Masahiro Shinoda who describes the impact Ugetsu had when it was released. “Process and Production” is a 20-min. interview with Tokuzo Tanaka, Mizoguchi’s assistant director on “Ugetsu.” Both of these interviews were newly recorded for Criterion in Tokyo in May 2005. A 10-minute interview with “Ugetsu” cinematographer Kazuo Miyagawa, originally recorded in 1992 for the Criterion laserdisc, rounds out the interviews. We also get Theatrical Trailers</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The meatiest extra on the disc, by far, is the lengthy (150 min.) documentary “Kenji Mizoguchi: The Life of a Film Director.” This received its own separate disc in the 2005 SD release. Directed by Kaneto Shindo in 1975, this sprawling two-and-a-half hour documentary provides a font of information about Mizoguchi who passed away in 1956 from leukemia. Unfortunately, the documentary focuses exclusively on a biographical approach with little critical discussion of Mizoguchi’s films or techniques. We are also treated to a loving closeup of an object identified as Mizoguchi’s “favorite urine bottle.” </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The thick square-bound insert booklet is a copy of the 2005 booklet featuring an essay by critic Phillip Lopate and three of the short stories which inspired the film: “The House in the Thicket” and “A Serpent's Lust” by Akinari Ueda and “How He Got The Legion of Honor” by Guy de Maupassant. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b>Final Thoughts:</b></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">I've had twelve extra years to reflect on both “Ugetsu” and Mizoguchi since I originally wrote this review, and my appreciation of the film and the filmmaker have only increased with time. I'm pretty sure most film buffs have the same experience with this great master of cinema. It's too facile to proclaim an equal to Ozu and Kurosawa; he is also an equal to Resnais and Welles and Akerman and Apichatpong and Rossellini and Varda and... well, you get the picture. You should also get this impressive Blu-ray release from Criterion.</div>Christopher Longhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05964148369227874063noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4956783167516082390.post-28470477483355575152017-06-19T21:03:00.000-07:002017-06-19T21:03:07.181-07:00Marseille Trilogy<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XX8nmf6t5zY/WUid__X_VaI/AAAAAAAAB9w/HkwdrpnGONcZaIMx580mbQBPgtJSz9weACLcBGAs/s1600/marseillecap1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="252" data-original-width="448" height="225" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XX8nmf6t5zY/WUid__X_VaI/AAAAAAAAB9w/HkwdrpnGONcZaIMx580mbQBPgtJSz9weACLcBGAs/s400/marseillecap1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><b>MARSEILLE TRILOGY</b> (Pagnol, 1931-1936)</div><div style="text-align: center;">Criterion Collection, Blu-ray, Release Date Jun 20, 2017</div><div style="text-align: center;">Review by Christopher S. Long</div><br /> <div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The appeal of Marcel Pagnol's “Marseille Trilogy” is captured vividly by a sequence from the middle film, “Fanny” (1932). The unmarried Fanny (Orane Demazis) confesses to her mother Honorine (Alida Rouffe) that she is pregnant. Honorine explodes with indignation, ordering Fanny to vacate the premises immediately. When Fanny faints, Honorine transitions into the doting mother offering apologies and unconditional support, and the instant Fanny comes to, she re-launches her splenetic attack against the child who has disgraced her. Meanwhile, Aunt Claudine (Milly Mathis) has Fanny's back all the way... until she notes quite matter-of-factly that Fanny can't be the family slut, because Aunt Zoe's already filling that role.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Like many scenes throughout the trilogy, the sequence unfolds slowly and offers multiple shifts in emotional tone, a roller-coaster experience sold by actors gifted enough to convince the audience they have no idea what's coming next or what to feel about it. They need time to sort through the roiling sea of anger, insecurity, and affection, and Pagnol always gives them ample time to do so. For some viewers, this provides a source of endless pleasure; for others, endless, or at least occasional, exasperation.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Pagnol had only quit his job as an English teacher a few earlier before to pursue a career as a playwright, and was bold enough to adapt his hit 1929 play “Marius” as a film just a few years into the talking picture era, in 1931. The talking part was essential for Pagnol, who once described cinema almost exclusively as an extension of theater, and all three films in the trilogy feature nearly wall-to-wall dialogue in just a handful of locations visited over and over.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Set in the southern port of Marseille (you probably guess that by now), “Marius” (directed by a youngster named Alexander Korda, though Pagnol worked with the actors) sets up the basic melodramatic structure of the entire trilogy. Marius and Fanny are in love, and are finally getting around to admitting it. Wedding bells would ring in the near future but Marius (Pierre Fresnay) hides a terrible, shocking secret: he has a shameful, irresistible attraction to... the ocean. He wants to hop the nearest ship and sail to exotic locations around the world and, really, who doesn't dream of huddling for months on end in a tiny wooden cage with dozens of sweaty men and drinking his own urine?&nbsp;</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-WTz3cF8DaWw/WUieKVvv25I/AAAAAAAAB90/Dzip6xJsmAgZ1D4o6Of5lxOEJj_evHBWwCLcBGAs/s1600/marseillecap2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="252" data-original-width="448" height="225" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-WTz3cF8DaWw/WUieKVvv25I/AAAAAAAAB90/Dzip6xJsmAgZ1D4o6Of5lxOEJj_evHBWwCLcBGAs/s400/marseillecap2.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">If the love story was the entirety of the “Marseille Trilogy”, it would be a drag because, to be honest, those two crazy kids are the least compelling characters in the cast, and the viewer simply has to accept on faith that they love each other because the source of the mutual attraction is not readily apparent. This sounds like a fatal flaw, but Pagnol's supporting characters are so rich and textured, so warm and funny and charming, each could be the centerpiece of his or her own film. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Marius's father Cesar, owner of the Bar de la Marine on the docks of Marseille, towers above all. Played by the comic actor Raimu, not well-known before the trilogy but destined to become a beloved French icon because of it, Cesar sputters and smiles, gesticulates hysterically before dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, and enjoys life all the more for complaining constantly about it. Raimu is a shameless scene-stealer in the finest sense of the term, and though only the final film in the trilogy, “Cesar” (1936), is named for his character, he is the heart and soul of the entire project. Fernand Charpin is almost as indelible as M. Panisse, who transforms over the course of the trilogy from feckless con artist to respected friend and husband, and the aforementioned Alida Rouffe more than holds her own as Fanny's proud and confident mother Honorine.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Pagnol grew up in Marseille, and his films are attentive to the specific rhythms of daily life in the sun-drenched port city and its local speech patterns though this is, of course, difficult for non-Francophones to pick up on. The specificity of the location has proven to have a universal appeal, as the films were hits both in France and abroad at the time and continue to draw fans today. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Viewers less enchanted by “filmed theater” might be a bit more resistance to the trilogy's charms, but the scope of the project can't help but impress. Over six-and-a-half hours of film covering twenty years of story (“Fanny” picks up immediately where “Marius” leaves off, but “Cesar” jumps ahead two decades), viewers come to know the characters intimately, and to appreciate both their repeated behaviors and the way they change throughout the films. I imagine 19<sup>th</sup>century readers of serialized novels like “Middlemarch” developing a similar relationship to the characters, constantly tempted to return by the simplest but most powerful appeal of most drama: wanting to find out what happens to everyone next.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-cwkfmpxgY4Q/WUieRuabyFI/AAAAAAAAB94/6MJBXgmipvsCb0T_tN4figbpRL60mlZdgCLcBGAs/s1600/marseillecover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="490" data-original-width="348" height="400" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-cwkfmpxgY4Q/WUieRuabyFI/AAAAAAAAB94/6MJBXgmipvsCb0T_tN4figbpRL60mlZdgCLcBGAs/s400/marseillecover.jpg" width="283" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b>Video: </b></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">“Marius” and “Fanny” are presented in their original 1.19:1 aspect ratios, “Cesar” is in 1.37:1. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />From the Criterion booklet: “These new digital restorations were created in 4K resolution from the 35 mm original nitrate negatives, 35 mm safety duplicate positives, and 35 mm duplicate negatives at Digimage Classics/Hiventy in Joinville-la-Pont, France. The restorations were undertaken by the Compagnie mediterraneenne de films and the Cinematheque francaise.”</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">“Fanny” is the weakest of the lot, though it's hard to tell if that has anything to do with the restoration, or rather the filming itself. A few scenes are out of focus, and a few others demonstrate rather soft focus – Pagnol's grandson says that Pagnol was unconcerned with technical qualities, so I don't know. “Marius” and “Cesar” both look much sharper and only marginal signs of damage are visible throughout the trilogy. Though considerable restoration was undertaken, it appears the restorers avoided the urge to buff and polish the image excessively.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b>Audio:</b></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The LPCM mono track on all three films is fairly consistent in quality with only the occasional drop off. Dialog is clearly mixed and the score only warbles a bit – there's not too much else to the sound design beyond that. Optional English subtitles support the French audio.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b>Extras:</b></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Each film is housed on its own Blu-ray disc which snaps into its own case. The three separate cases, along with the insert booklet, are tucked into the cardboard slip case for the entire trilogy. The overall set gets the Spine Number 881, with the other three films as 882-884. Each disc includes its own extras.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">“Marius” kicks off with an introduction (19 min.) by director Bertrand Tavernier, who credits Francois Truffaut with turning him onto Pagnol in the first place.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Nicolas Pagnol, the writer/director's grandson, speaks at length (2017, 30 min.) about his grandfather's work, and discussing Marcel's relationships with his various collaborators. He emphasizes that Pagnol was an independent filmmaker who worked mostly with friends, despite also working for studios like Paramount.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">“Pagnol's Poetic Realism” (2017, 30 min.) is a video essay narrated by Brett Bowles, author of the 2012 book “Marcel Pagnol.” Bowles situates Pagnol's work in the poetic realist movement of the '30s and '40s while noting that Pagnol added more comedy and a sense of social optimism to the usually grimmer, more fatalistic movement.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">“Fanny” includes two episodes from the six-part series “Marcel Pagnol: Mourceaux choisis.” This 1973 series for French television covered Pagnol's entire career. The disc includes the excerpts applicable to the “Marseille Trilogy” - all of Episode 3 (58 min.) and about half of Episode 4 (27 min.)</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">“Cesar” collects older interviews with cast members Orane Denazis (1967, 3 min.), Pierre Fresnay (1956, 6 min.), and Robert Vattier (1976, 11 min.) The disc also includes a short documentary (12 min.) about Marseille that Pagnol shot in 1935, perhaps in tandem with the release of “Cesar.” The disc wraps with a 2-minute piece about the digital restoration of the trilogy.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The thick, square-bound booklet includes an essay by critic Michael Atkinson and excerpts of an introduction that Pagnol wrote for the 1964 publication of his Marseille plays and film scripts.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b>Final Thoughts:</b></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">With fine digital restorations and a substantial sampling of extra features, this Criterion boxed set provides an impressive release for Marcel Pagnol's best-known work. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div>Christopher Longhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05964148369227874063noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4956783167516082390.post-59621118851377539782017-05-31T11:30:00.000-07:002017-06-01T07:57:35.590-07:00Martin Scorsese's World Cinema Project, No. 2<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9CPpDY-5_M4/WTApLCfzyGI/AAAAAAAAB9A/2MVRMhVP2NUn8byZV6B-begAAXhYn_W_QCLcB/s1600/limitecap1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="252" data-original-width="448" height="225" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9CPpDY-5_M4/WTApLCfzyGI/AAAAAAAAB9A/2MVRMhVP2NUn8byZV6B-begAAXhYn_W_QCLcB/s400/limitecap1.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Limite</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><b>MARTIN SCORSESE'S WORLD CINEMA PROJECT NO. 2</b></div><div style="text-align: center;">Criterion Collection, Dual Format, Release Date May 30, 2017</div><div style="text-align: center;">Review by Christopher S. Long</div><br /> <div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">At least Criterion wasn't just teasing us when they slapped a “No. 1” on their first boxed set of “Martin Scorsese's World Cinema Project” back in 2013. It took three-and-a-half years to get to. “No. 2” but it was well worth the wait.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The initial set expanded the scope of the Criterion Collection in a valuable way. Criterion takes its mission to distribute “important classic and contemporary films” very seriously, but that mission has inevitably focused greater attention on a handful of national cinemas, with France, Italy, and Japan being much better represented than most others. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The World Cinema Project, an outgrowth of Martin Scorsese's The Film Foundation,also “preserves and restores neglected films from around the world” making them a perfect complement as they cover geographies not always highlighted by Criterion. The first “World Cinema Project” volume included films from Senegal, Mexico, India, Turkey, Morocco, and South Korea, and gave me my first chance to see work by major directors I had only read about before like Djibril Diop Mambety and Ritwik Ghatak (their films “Touki Bouki” and “A River Called Titas” were, in my opinion, the best on the set). </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The second volume of the project brings us another film from Turkey, but also makes stops in the Philippines, Thailand, Brazil, Kazakhstan, and Taiwan, and spans a range from 1931 to the very end of the 20<sup>th</sup> century.&nbsp;</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-cMwzJyTl0TE/WTApWrdBdEI/AAAAAAAAB9E/WmXc1uRbIaYNhs6Ske-hlbTVV-flaM5TwCLcB/s1600/insiangcap2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="800" height="225" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-cMwzJyTl0TE/WTApWrdBdEI/AAAAAAAAB9E/WmXc1uRbIaYNhs6Ske-hlbTVV-flaM5TwCLcB/s400/insiangcap2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Insiang</td></tr></tbody></table><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b>“Insiang” (1976)</b> opens with the graphic depiction of pigs being gutted in on a slaughterhouse floor, and a quick location shift to a slum town built along a river promises a continuation of the blood-letting, at least in figurative terms, though viewers shouldn't be quick to rule out the literal either. Filipina star Hilda Koronel plays the title character, a young woman clinging to innocence and decency under harrowing circumstances. She's saddled with a bitter, vengeful mother (Mona Lisa) who blames Insiang for her father abandoning the family: “Wherever your father is now, I hope he and his girlfriend drop dead!” That's one of mom's more affectionate outpourings. The situation worsens significantly when a hunky young bully (Ruel Vernal) moves in with mom while clearly having his eyes set on the lovely Insiang as well. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Filipino director Lino Brocka was absurdly prolific, shooting over sixty features in just a twenty-year span before his death in a car accident in 1991 at age 52. Like many of his films, “Insiang” was shot quickly (furiously might be a better term), in just seven days with little time for retakes, and the film's lean shooting schedule contributes to its sense of immediacy and authenticity. “Insiang” marries heated melodrama with gritty social realism, grounding the more lurid plot developments in a vividly depicted setting where the options for just everyone from the most vulnerable on up to the aspiring alpha male are severely limited. Sweaty, muscle-bound young men drunk on faux-machismo drive much of the action, but the true core of the film is the mother-daughter love/hate relationship which ultimately transforms into a revenge tale. The accomplished Koronel is always riveting as the thoughtful, resourceful protagonist, but Mona Lisa dives deep into the tormented soul of a spiteful woman who has abandoned all hope and inflicts misery on anyone she perceives as being under her control. She bares her fangs in scene after scene, but the film pulls off a minor miracle by making her a sympathetic figure in the end, if only for a fleeting moment or two.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ASlgGXXzgbU/WTAp858OwuI/AAAAAAAAB9M/2PZYYfWIDHwAN8e2cSy9Aw1cjhLg7ondACLcB/s1600/mysteriousobjectcap1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="252" data-original-width="448" height="225" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ASlgGXXzgbU/WTAp858OwuI/AAAAAAAAB9M/2PZYYfWIDHwAN8e2cSy9Aw1cjhLg7ondACLcB/s400/mysteriousobjectcap1.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mysterious Object</td></tr></tbody></table><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b>“Mysterious Object at Noon”</b> (2000) is the debut film of the Thai director Apichatpong Weerasethakul who has come to define 21<sup>st</sup> century art-house cinema as much as any world filmmaker. Apichatpong has sent modern cinephiles swooning with gorgeous, enigmatic films like “Tropical Malady” (2004), “Syndromes and a Century” (2006), and the contemplative Palme d'Or-winner “Uncle Boonmee Who Can Recall His Past Lives” (2010). Modern masterpieces all. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Apichatpong is often bundled in with the so-called “slow cinema” directors who have formed a rebellious vanguard against commercial cinema's frenetic, ever-intensifying pace, but the seductive power of his work stems from much more than just the power of the long, languorous take. The ending of “Syndromes and a Century”... oh my, I'm swooning again.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Anyway, it all started (feature-wise, anyway) with strange (yes, mysterious) hybrid movie that appears to blend documentary and fiction elements, though perhaps it's more accurate to say it shuttles back-and-forth between different fictional elements in an amorphous, chimerical structure that ultimately renders such distinctions irrelevant. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Taking its cue from the surrealist “exquisite corpse” game, “Mysterious Object” opens with a woman tearfully recounting the story of how her father sold her for bus fare only to be prompted by a man off -screen (presumably Apichatpong) to tell another story next. Real, make-believe, it doesn't matter. The camera then continues to rove the Thai countryside filming new subjects who each asked to add their own chapter to a constantly-evolving tale that begins as the simple story of a student and his caring teacher Dogfahr (played by multiple actresses) before turning into a science-fiction/horror tale with a touch of “Body Snatchers” about it, but with ample time for a boxing match, a plane crash, medical melodrama, musical interludes, and even fourth-wall busting moments when the cast takes a lunch break and the camera boom droops well into the shot. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The film surprises at every turn, excites even when it becomes, quite frankly, a bit boring, and defies ready description. I had seen it before, though I suspect even many die-hard Apichatpong fans are getting their first opportunity to see it with this release. I'll be interested to learn if they had the same thought that occurred to me on this second viewing: “Mysterious Object” is the rare debut film that may well need to be seen after viewers have watched the rest of the director's work in order to fully appreciate it. “Mysterious Object” contains so much of the Apichatpong-verse that was still waiting to be unpacked over the ensuing years (with, presumably, much more to come) that it feels like you're watching oracular previews of “Syndromes” and “Boonmee” and so forth. In that sense, it reminds me of the early Werner Herzog film “Fata Morgana” (1971), also a weird docu-fiction hybrid that features traces of most ofthe images and motifs that would later come to be known as Herzogian.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">What I really mean to say is that I absolutely love this movie. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">It's a real head-scratcher, though, no argument there. So is <b>“Limite” (1931)</b>, a 1931 Brazilian silent film that has almost no right to exist. First of all, it was made by a 22-year-old aspiring poet from Brazil named Mario Peixoto who had no previous filmmaking experience and was eager to make a movie inspired by a single photograph (pictured at the top) he had seen in a newspaper in Paris. Tough sell there and when he pitched his idea to a few accomplished filmmakers, he was rejected. Undaunted, he somehow managed to make the movie on his own, working with an amateur cast and crew consisting mostly of his friends. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Second of all, the film was a commercial flop and Peixoto would never make another movie though, fortunately, the poetry thing worked out well for him. The movie was admired in certain cinephilic circles, but was seldom screened, and was confiscated in 1966 by the military government. It may well have ceased to exist entirely if not for a heroic restoration effort undertaken in 1975.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">“Limite” tells the tale of a man and two women stranded at sea in a tiny boat, but, no, I can see I've already led you astray. It's not really a tale at all, but a series of associative images that may or may not be recounting the story of how each of them wound up on the boat. That's not really important. The young, enthusiastic tyro filmmaker seems much more interested in exploring the formal limits of this new-to-him medium than in constructing a narrative.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">I suspect the best way for me to explain is to recount the images that have endured since I watched it a week ago. In one sequence, a woman works intently at a sewing machine, and the film cuts in to extreme closeups of fabric, buttons, and tape measures. In another scene, the camera swoops like a raptor at a man's face over and over again. Peixoto loves closeups that isolate body parts – a hand partially covering an open mouth, gangly legs, overhead shots of a man's parted hair. All with frequent cuts to rolling waves dappled by sunlight.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Does it add up to anything? I don't know that Peixoto cared either way, but I'm sure I can't tell you after a single viewing. I was enraptured by lengthy stretches, but ultimately felt the poetic experience was stretched out too long at just under two hours. On the other hand, I'm also a firm believer that saying a movie is too long is kind of a dopey thing to say, but I'm stuck with it now. Even dopier is the fact that I've yet to mention this silent film's lush score which is just as much of a structuring element as the images. Reconstructed closely from the original score, it consists of classical standards by Debussy, Satie, Prokofiev, and others, and sure sounds great in this restored version.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-1mJl66IoynQ/WTAqK7-TGgI/AAAAAAAAB9Q/s0mxaXcx5-QYUseHA7O-401zo5ljxzPOQCLcB/s1600/revengecap1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="252" data-original-width="448" height="225" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-1mJl66IoynQ/WTAqK7-TGgI/AAAAAAAAB9Q/s0mxaXcx5-QYUseHA7O-401zo5ljxzPOQCLcB/s400/revengecap1.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Revenge</td></tr></tbody></table><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b>“Revenge”</b> <b>(1989)</b> is a straightforward enough title for a film that is anything but straightforward. Directed by Ermek Shinarbaev with a screenplay by the esteemed writer Anatoli Kim, “Revenge” is considered one of the defining films of the Kazakh(stan) New Wave, a wave I freely admit I was unaware of and which emerged as the Soviet Union was dissolving. The film takes place in Korea and on Sakhalin Island (north of Japan) and begins in the 18<sup>th</sup> century before jumping ahead to 1915 for a tale that will unfold slowly over several decades. A drunken teacher kills a girl in his charge, prompting her father to hatch a complex revenge plot which involves a long and fruitless pursuit, then turns to siring a child with his new wife and raising the boy to seek vengeance for the half-sister who died before he was born. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The simple title turns out, of course, to be ironic, as the pursuit of vengeance consumes multiple lifetimes and spans half a continent, only to wind up... well, I won't reveal it, but as you're watching the film, I'm sure you can figure out that Shinarbaev and Kim have no plans to present a linear tale with a neat, conclusive finish.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-4Ezo-nebOqg/WTAqZKAnMWI/AAAAAAAAB9U/csH5zJYEiw4uyJs3W6ZmB60_wJYiKXyGACLcB/s1600/lawofbordercap1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="252" data-original-width="448" height="225" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-4Ezo-nebOqg/WTAqZKAnMWI/AAAAAAAAB9U/csH5zJYEiw4uyJs3W6ZmB60_wJYiKXyGACLcB/s400/lawofbordercap1.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Law of the Border</td></tr></tbody></table><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">On one of the set's extras, film producer Mevlut Akkaya compares Turkish writer-actor Yilmaz Guney to Marlon Brando and James Dean. I don't think he intends primarily to compare their acting styles, but rather refers to the iconic status Guney has in Turkish film culture. From what little I've read about Guney, this may understate the case as Guney didn't just play rebels on screen, but was a real-life crusader and outlaw, spending time in jail which didn't stop him from directing films by proxy.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Guney doesn't direct <b>“Law of the Border” (1966)</b> – that honor belongs to veteran Lutfi O. Akad – but he is the star of this frontier Western (by way of rural Turkey, that is) which pits impoverished villagers against government forces. Lean, ruggedly handsome Guney plays Hidir, one of the local leaders in a town where smuggling is effectively the only career option. Said occupation involves the precarious crossing of a border constantly patrolled by the military and protected by mine fields – oh, those poor sheep. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">This sleek film (just 76 minutes long) wastes little time, but doesn't indulge in a simple good guy-bad guy dichotomy. Hidir is noble, but also stubborn and impulsive, while a new lieutenant sincerely wants to improve the declining towns under his watch with the help of a teacher eager to build a school to educate the boys (no mention of the girls' prospects, alas) so they have more choices than their fathers. Tradition and pride prove frustratingly resistant to change. Hidir tries his best to be a hero, but it's tough to overcome your social programming.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">“Law of the Border” is yet another movie that was almost lost for good when a new military government in 1980 seized many films deemed critical. Only a single and incomplete print of the film survived, making this the perfect salvage operation for the World Cinema Project.&nbsp;</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-tY3k4lX0-VQ/WTAqmKeEHtI/AAAAAAAAB9Y/0BqW2gAKpV09I6zuww4j06pYr-2ufaqHACLcB/s1600/taipeistorycap.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="800" height="225" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-tY3k4lX0-VQ/WTAqmKeEHtI/AAAAAAAAB9Y/0BqW2gAKpV09I6zuww4j06pYr-2ufaqHACLcB/s400/taipeistorycap.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Taipei Story</td></tr></tbody></table><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">I won't go so far as to say this boxed set saves the best for last, but Edward Yang's <b>“Taipei Story” (1985)</b> is pretty tough to beat. Actually, that's not true. I think that Yang's<a href="http://www.dvdblureview.com/2016/03/a-brighter-summer-day.html"> “A Brighter Summer Day” (1991)</a> and “Yi Yi” (2000), both also released by the Criterion Collection, are slightly better, but consider that high praise for Yang, not an indictment of the film. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The stories of “Taipei Story” have, in a sense, lurched to a halt just as the film picks them up. Lung (played by famed director Hou Hsiao-hsien, who also co-wrote the film) and Chin (pop singer Tsai Chin) profess to still have dreams, but it's uncertain if they even still have a life together. They can barely muster any enthusiasm while looking at a new apartment in the opening scene, and their vague plan to “go to America” doesn't convince anyone, including them. Chin's professional plans have been derailed by a corporate takeover which serves as a bitter reminder that personal loyalty has no value on a balance sheet. Lung's only fading pleasure revolves around his (also fading) memories of his youthful days as a baseball star.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Traditional slogans of the Chiang Kai-shek era provide neither comfort nor guidance, but turning to mainland China, Japan, or America for a new direction seems no more promising, the latter being defined as a place where you can shoot someone in your backyard, then drag him in your house and claim self-defense. Freedom!</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The study of modern alienation, along with the numerous shots of sterile, imposing city architecture, glass facades reflecting the abyss, inevitably bring to mind comparisons to Antonioni, but Yang's protagonists aren't quite as glamorous in their disaffection. Lung may be wallowing in his own misery, but he's still a down-to-earth guy (Hou looks like like an everyday fellow, not a dashing leading man) who can muster enough energy to try to help both an old friend who's down on his luck and Chin's deadbeat father, providing brief sparks of warmth, or at least the prospect thereof.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">“Taipei Story” is immaculately filmed and edited, as are all of Yang's films that I've seen. He was a modern master, and his death in 2006 at age 59 was a devastating loss for the film community. My only disappointment is that this really feels like a movie that should have its own solo release with ample extras, the same treatment Criterion gave to “A Brighter Summer Day” and “Yi Yi.” I hope that having it available (for now) only in this set won't limit its potential viewership.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-HMQqcMpw4DI/WTAq3rIrqyI/AAAAAAAAB9c/6LIFkT_pywEVyYHFktTppw3R1YZzqLMBgCLcB/s1600/worldcinemaproject2cover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="490" data-original-width="348" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-HMQqcMpw4DI/WTAq3rIrqyI/AAAAAAAAB9c/6LIFkT_pywEVyYHFktTppw3R1YZzqLMBgCLcB/s400/worldcinemaproject2cover.jpg" width="283" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b>Video:</b></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">“Revenge” and “Taipei Story” both look sharp and mostly damage-free, as you would expect from two of the most recent films on the set.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">“Insiang” has a naturally “grubby” look to it, so it doesn't pop as vividly as the other two films just mentioned, but this high-def transfer provides a surprisingly sharp and detailed image with an appropriately subtle color palette.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">“Mysterious Object” was shot in black-and-white on 16mm reversal stock and also has its own “grubby” look that is an integral part of the viewing experience. I can't quite say this features the same sharp image detail as other films on the set, but I think it looks just like it's supposed to, so no complaints here.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">“Limite” and “Law of the Border” each show considerable damage related to their perilous journeys through life. One extended sequence in “Limite” is missing entirely. Some other shots are badly damaged enough that only the center of the image can be seen in the middle of the decaying edges. In a strange way, this adds to its appeal, though I'm sure everyone involved would prefer pristine, intact prints to work from. The undamaged shots are often quite breathtaking to look at in this high-def transfer. “Law of the Border” has significant scratches and other damage visible in many shots and had to rely on multiple sources, but we're fortunate it exists at all.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b>Audio:</b></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">“Law of the Border” has the tinniest sound, but it's fine, and the other films get treated with Mono mixes for all except “Mysterious Object” which gets a 5.1 surround mix. Optional subtitles are provided for each film.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b>Extras:</b></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">There are three double-sized keepcases tucked into the cardboard case for this box set. Each case includes three discs: a Blu-ray which contains two films, and then also a single DVD with each of the films on it. The first disc has “Insiang” and “Mysterious Object.” The second has “Revenge” and “Limite.” The third: “Law of the Border” and “Taipei Story.” </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">For each film, we get a two-minute introduction from Martin Scorsese, speaking on behalf of the World Cinema Project, and providing a little information about the filmmakers and the restoration involved.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Each film is also accompanied by a brief interview as the only other extra. For “Insiang” we get an interview with film historian and “man of cinema” Pierre Rissient (14 min.) For “Mysterious Object,” director Apichatpong Weerasethakul holds court (18 min.) On “Limite” filmmaker Walter Salles talks about the challenges in preserving the film (14 min.) For “Revenge” there's an interview with director Ermek Shinarbaev (19 min.) On “Law of the Border” film producer Mevlut Akkaya speaks (17 min.) and for “Taipei Story” we get a conversation between filmmakers Hou Hsiao-hsien and Edmond Wong (18 min.)</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">A thick, square-bound booklet is also tucked into the cardboard box alongside the three discs and includes individual essays for each film.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b>Final Thoughts:</b></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Back when I reviewed the first volume of the World Cinema Project, I guessed that “Mysterious Object” and “A Brighter Summer Day” would be part of the next set, so I'm going to give myself one-and-a-half points for that. How about “Memories of Underdevelopment” and “Soleil O” for the next set? (Yes, I'm just scrolling through the titles listed at the World Cinema Project site) Considering how strong the first two sets have been, we can reasonably trust the selection process for the next one. Let's just hope it arrives a little quicker this time around.</div>Christopher Longhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05964148369227874063noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4956783167516082390.post-68775850571145071522017-05-16T10:30:00.000-07:002017-05-16T07:33:47.184-07:00Jeanne Dielman, 23 Quai du Commerce, 1080 Bruxelles<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-P4EjLjR2-CI/VXMtBQg5zgI/AAAAAAAAA_U/4Bdl9U_0g9Y/s1600/jeannedielmanveal.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-P4EjLjR2-CI/VXMtBQg5zgI/AAAAAAAAA_U/4Bdl9U_0g9Y/s400/jeannedielmanveal.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><b>JEANNE DIELMAN, 23 QUAI DU COMMERCE, 1080 BRUXELLES</b> (Akerman, 1975)</div><div style="text-align: center;">Criterion Collection, DVD, Release Date August 25, 2009<br />Blu-ray Released on May 9, 2017 </div><div style="text-align: center;">Review by Christopher S. Long</div><br />(<i>This review of Chantal Akerman's masterpiece was written for the 2009 DVD release by the Criterion Collection. Sections below have been updated to discuss the 2017 Blu-ray re-release of the film.</i>)<br /><br /><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">I have to dispel the rumor that Chantal Akerman's brilliant "Jeanne Dielman, 23 Quai du Commerce, 1080 Bruxelles" (1975) consists of three hours of a woman doing housework. That's nonsense. It's three hours and twenty minutes. And she also goes shopping.<br /><br />Each room in Jeanne's cramped Belgian apartment is filmed from one or two fixed camera set-ups, always the same ones (at least for the first half of the movie; it opens up a bit later on). The camera, placed about waist high, never moves and the action in each shot is filmed in real time with no analytical editing. When Jeanne prepares dinner, we watch the entire process from when she spreads flour on the table, whips the eggs, breads the cutlets and so on. <br /><br />In some ways, “Jeanne Dielman” feels like the first spycam movie ever made. Usually Jeanne is in the shot but sometimes she wanders in and out as she completes her chores. The camera doesn't budge. It's almost as if the cameras in each room are rolling 24/7 and simply waiting for Jeanne to enter their field of vision, and for viewers to switch channels to watch the next room. When Jeanne's not there, we stare at the sink or the tureen on the dining room table or the bedroom closet. The film provides an uncomfortably intimate exploration of this tiny, titular space that almost completely defines Jeanne Dielman's claustrophobic world.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-tKGStIdeOiM/VXMtT2FhaFI/AAAAAAAAA_c/mHmpc2LFlA8/s1600/jeannedielmanpotato4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="241" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-tKGStIdeOiM/VXMtT2FhaFI/AAAAAAAAA_c/mHmpc2LFlA8/s400/jeannedielmanpotato4.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">"Jeanne Dielman" traces three days in the life of its title character, a widow and homemaker who receives male “clients" once a day to pay the bills. Each day is rigidly segmented, a series of domestic tasks and rituals performed at the same time every day, a comfortable tedium which protects Jeanne from the horror of having free time to contemplate her life. At least until something goes wrong on the second day and disrupts her delicate, hard-earned stasis. Then she leaves the lid off the tureen, fumbles with the silverware, overcooks the potatoes, and wakes up a little earlier than usual. Chaos theory style, these minor variations eventually lead to major consequences, and the potential energy built up by three-plus hours of this rigorously structured study of a body (often not) in motion erupts into an unexpectedly kinetic final sequence.<br /><br />Chantal Akerman was only 25 when she made "Jeanne Dielman." It's hard to believe someone so young could have such a clear and unique vision and the ability to realize it so well, but it's best not to fall into the trap of lauding her as a solitary genius. She had many collaborators on this film, crewed mostly by women, chief among them cinematographer Babette Mangolte and leading actress Delphine Seyrig. <br /><br />Mangolte teamed up with Akerman to produce this "spycam" film, adapting a shooting style to fit the restricted space of the real apartment the film was shot in (some scenes were re-staged in a studio, but this footage wasn't used). Unable to knock out walls or remove ceilings, Mangolte and Akerman devised a way to cover each room with just a few set-ups and still create an asphyxiating immediacy. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-aaUmaoQSCf8/VXMtejVZ-LI/AAAAAAAAA_k/BROKX_K-mjI/s1600/jeannedielman2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="226" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-aaUmaoQSCf8/VXMtejVZ-LI/AAAAAAAAA_k/BROKX_K-mjI/s400/jeannedielman2.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Delphine Seyrig was a huge star by the time she agreed to work with this young and relatively unknown director. There was little chance for money or glory in the role, but she believed in the project. Jeanne Dielman in her dowdy sweaters is almost the polar opposite of the glamorous fashion icon Seyrig played in "Last Year at Marienbad" (1961), but in both films Seyrig is asked to "behave" more than she is to act. In "Marienbad" she was mostly a shape situated in her environment. Jeanne Dielman is a relatively expressionless woman, a robo-mom who performs her chores mechanically and, at least on the first go round, with total efficiency. It's hard to imagine that Seyrig had much fun with the role (and we see evidence of this on one of the DVD features) but she inhabits the body of Jeanne Dielman with a stolid blankness that would be anathema to many actresses. By gradual accumulation and uncomfortably close observation, Jeanne becomes one of the most tangible presences the cinema has ever witnessed. For my money, she's the greatest film character of all-time.<br /><br />"Jeanne Dielman" is a transfixing experience that inspires a kind of solemn awe on an initial viewing, but upon reflection it also yields its fair share of humor. There's that painfully awkward scene where Jeanne wanders around the apartment with her pot of overcooked potatoes and winds up in the bathroom for some reason. And her wimpy, dependent son (Jan Decorte) who barely speaks and never once says thank you, the little bastard, when mom clears off each course. And the most enduring image of all, both creepy and funny, is that of the frugal Jeanne obsessively clicking the lights on and off as she exits one room and enters another. Has anyone counted the number of times we see her flick a light switch? Dozens for sure, possibly in the hundreds.<br /><br />Did I mention the baby scene? No? Well let's just say it's not funny at all. In fact it's one of the saddest, most gut-wrenching scenes ever put on film. Just another of many remarkable moments from a remarkable film.<br /><br />Spycams indulge voyeuristic impulses, of course. "Jeanne Dielman" is certainly not intended to appeal to prurient interests. Even a scene in which Jeanne bathes (waist-level camera unmoving, of course) isn't the least bit erotic. But the film does provide viewers the opportunity to see images (or "images between the images" in Akerman's terms) that they would not otherwise get a chance to see. More specifically, the film provides images of the domestic space previously deemed unfit for cinematic treatment, at least in such detail and clarity. Akerman relocates the traditional epic to the kitchen, the bedroom, and the dining room, turning the camera on a world known to hundreds of millions of women throughout the world but seldom the subject of cinema. I'd say that's the greatest accomplishment of "Jeanne Dielman," but there's a long list of accomplishments to choose from. <br /><br />"Jeanne Dielman" is on the short list of films that changed the way I understood film. Every bit as much as Kubrick's “2001,” this domestic odyssey is the ultimate trip.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Ixd8Rx_YTVs/WRsNjH7YPsI/AAAAAAAAB8w/CEcOEQZLJM4Tk169_hxck41FPWrDiCOTACLcB/s1600/jeannedielmancoverblu.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Ixd8Rx_YTVs/WRsNjH7YPsI/AAAAAAAAB8w/CEcOEQZLJM4Tk169_hxck41FPWrDiCOTACLcB/s400/jeannedielmancoverblu.jpg" width="283" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b>Video:</b></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The film is presented in a 1.66:1 widescreen (anamorphic) ratio. The progressive transfer was digitally restored under Akerman's supervision. The grainy, textured image looks great. Sharp contrast, everything you expect from Criterion. Except that it's not high-def. But maybe someday soon...<br /><br /><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b>Update for 2017 Blu-ray release:</b> ...and maybe eight years isn't soon, but now it's here in glorious Blu-ray. Sure, sure, the jokes are easy. Man, you can really see Jeanne work that veal cutlet now! Watch those potatoes boil! But one of the greatest films ever made deserves the best presentation possible, and this high-def upgrade from Criterion renders 23, quai du Commerce, 1080 Bruxelles in vivid detail. From the Criterion booklet, this 1080p transfer is sourced from a “new 2K digital restoration” and was “supervised by director Chantal Akerman and cinematographer Babette Mangolte.” In addition to the improved detail evident throughout, the colors look a bit warmer overall than the prior SD transfer. The frame also shows more a bit more information around the edges – more of the room is visible on each side of the frame. You see just a smidge more of the cabinets overhead, etc. All in all, it looks pretty great.</div><br /><br /><b>Audio:</b></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The DVD is presented in Dolby Digital Mono. Optional English subtitles support the French audio.<br /><br /><b>Update for 2017 Blu-ray release</b>: I sure wasn't too wordy when I wrote this before. That's because the sound design on "Jeanne Dielman" is pretty spare and straightforward. This linear PCM mono track is still a welcome improvement even if said improvement isn't particularly noticeable. <br /><br /><b>Extras: </b></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">This two-disc package is absolutely loaded.<br /><br /><b>Update for 2017 Blu-ray release</b>: Criterion has imported all of the extras, including the insert booklet, from the 2009 release. The only difference is that they are now rendered in high-def, and are all included on a single Blu-ray rather than on the two discs from before. <br /><br />"Autour de ‘Jeanne Dielman'" (69 min.) is the best on-set feature I have ever seen. Filmed by actor Sami Frey, this feature shows Chantal Akerman and Delphine Seyrig at work on set, and demonstrates the degree to which collaboration can also be a battle of wills. Seyrig struggles to understand what Akerman wants while Akerman strives to communicate as little as possible. Just enough to give the actress what she needs but not so much that she runs the risk of introducing too much psychology into the project. The back-and-forth conversations between them are fascinating. Seyrig is frustrated but always cordial. Akerman obviously has a crystal clear vision in her mind of what she wants, but some difficulty (and reluctance) in verbalizing it. It's an amazing feature, and deserves to be a staple on film school curricula.<br /><br />"Saute ma ville" (1968) is Akerman's first short film. The 18-year-old Akerman stars as (does this sound familiar?) a woman in a kitchen who tends to a few chores and quickly falls apart. This is much more playful than "Jeanne Dielman" and has a lovely soundtrack which consists of (I presume) Akerman humming. It's wonderful to have an opportunity to see the first film by such a great director.<br /><br />"Chantal Akerman on Filmmaking" is excerpted from a 1997 episode of "Cinéma, de notre temps" in which Akerman directs an episode about herself. It is basically a monologue in which she shares some fairly personal reflections on her craft.<br /><br />The collection includes several interviews: Chantal Akerman (20 min, recorded in April 2009 for Criterion), cinematographer Babette Mangolte (23 min, April 2009), and a 2007 interview in which Akerman interrogates her mother Natalia (28 min.) <br /><br />A brief interview with Akerman and Seyrig is excerpted from the February 15, 1976 episode of "Les rendez-vous du dimanche" (7 min.)<br /><br />The insert booklet features an essay by Ivone Margulies, author of "Nothing Happens: Chantal Akerman's Hyperrealist Everyday." <br /><br /><b>Final Thoughts:</b></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Chantal Akerman is a much celebrated figure in cinephilic and academic circles, but largely unknown even to many fans of Francophone cinema. Criterion's release of "Jeanne Dielman" will, I hope, begin to remedy the situation. "Jeanne Dielman" is indisputably one of the greatest and most important films of the past half century. Though it is probably Akerman's greatest achievement, it's hardly the only highlight on her resume. "Je, tu, il, elle" (1974) is an intensely personal film that can be just as harrowing as "Jeanne Dielman." "News From Home" (1977) and "From The East" (1993) are exceptional as well. And “La chambre” (1972). And “Hotel Monterey” (1972). Well, you get the picture.<br /><br /><b>Update for 2017 Blu-ray release:</b> And now Chantal Akerman is gone, and her loss still stings nearly two years later. I wrote "probably" before just to emphasize that Akerman made many great films, but I am confident that "Jeanne Dielman" is her masterpiece, as well as one of the masterpieces of world cinema. In fact, I wouldn't argue too strongly with anyone who claimed it was the greatest film ever made. And that makes this Blu-ray update, even without any new features, one of the most significant and welcome home theater releases of 2017. </div>Christopher Longhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05964148369227874063noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4956783167516082390.post-50323397668693874762017-05-15T20:23:00.004-07:002017-05-15T20:23:56.542-07:00Good Morning<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-iL3LkaY7unQ/WRpwSKqLHhI/AAAAAAAAB8c/UaqjPzNxAcwhssYCICpMuI-eyqJDvsYDACLcB/s1600/ozugoodmorningcap2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="223" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-iL3LkaY7unQ/WRpwSKqLHhI/AAAAAAAAB8c/UaqjPzNxAcwhssYCICpMuI-eyqJDvsYDACLcB/s400/ozugoodmorningcap2.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><b>GOOD MORNING</b> (Ozu, 1959)</div><div style="text-align: center;">Criterion Collection, Blu-ray, Release Date May 16, 1959</div><div style="text-align: center;">Review by Christopher S. Long</div><br /> <div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">As an adult who remains baffled by the ubiquitous small talk that comprises most social interactions, I can empathize strongly with the young protagonists of Yasujiro Ozu's “Good Morning” (1959). After thirteen-year-old Minoru and seven-year-old Isamu brattily demand their parents buy a television so they can watch sumo wrestling and baseball, their father (Ozu stalwart Chishu Ryu) scolds them for their sassy backtalk. A petulant Minoru retorts that adults spend all their time saying stupid things like “Good morning” (and “No, you can't have a TV!”) and enlists his little brother in a vow of total silence until they get their television and, perhaps, until the adults understand just how absurd their constant prattle sounds.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The boys' refusal to observe the expected social niceties and to comply with the inherent power structure between generations sets off a chain reaction in their tiny suburban neighborhood. Gossipy housewives, who, like everyone, consider themselves the main characters in the story, take the boys' rudeness as a personal rebuke, and more specifically as a sign of their parents' haughtiness. Their mother thinks she's better than us? Well, we'll show her!</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The neighborhood's delicate social structure shakes, but never comes particularly close to collapsing in one this lightly comic offering from Ozu. And the boys' blinkered but sincere perspective ultimately underscores the significance of the insignificant interactions they protest. The content may be superficial, but the form of a “Good morning” or “This weather sure is crazy” is essential to enable humans to live together in relative harmony. Sometimes it even opens the door for far more intimate exchanges. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">I point all of this out mostly because I wanted to become one of the very few critics ever to make it to the fourth paragraph of a review of “Good Morning” without talking about farts. Fart jokes may not be the first thing that spring to mind when you think of the director of “Tokyo Story” (1953) and “An Autumn Afternoon” (1962) but farts (huh huh, he said “but farts”) grease the social skids as surely as any other form of communication in this film. The boys' ability to fart on command (indicating by peppery musical toots on the soundtrack) assures their place in the playground pecking order, and at least one of their fathers takes great pride in his firm and resonant tuba-farts that repeatedly trick his poor wife into thinking he's calling for her. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">It's tempting, at least for me, to think that Ozu is suggesting that no matter what orifice we use to communicate we're really all just talking out our asses, but he's much more appreciative of the nuances of daily social interaction than I am. Ozu and co-writer Kogo Noda have an uncanny knack for depicting complex, dynamic characters in just a few seconds of screentime; even the shameless gossips aren't allowed to turn into one-dimensional shrews. People are cranky when they think they've been treated unfairly, sunny when they're getting a fair shake, confident in private, and more tentative in less-controlled social situations. Even a romantic subplot between an unemployed teacher and his neighbor feels fully realized despite only being glimpsed intermittently, and pays off in a final scene which is a gentle but full-blast ode to the beauty and vitality of small talk.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Ozu veterans might except Chishu Ryu to dominate the film, but Ozu gives his young stars ample room to shine, and wisely returns over and over to the little miracle he discovered in young Masahiko Shimazu, who plays Isamu. His chubby face with its awkwardly proportioned features plays like a live-action cartoon, and his exaggerated gestures echo the perfect calibration of a silent comedian. And he can fart like a champ. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Periodic cuts to meticulously composed shots of the neighborhood's modest buildings, usually arranged in sharp diagonals, remind the viewer that it doesn't take a big (or naked) city to generate eight million stories. The film even ends by spotlighting a previously minor character, the one boy whose flailing attempts at flatulence end in disappointment, not to mention extra laundry for his confused and irritated mother. As the boy sits there brokenhearted, Ozu gleefully cuts to one final visual joke, a clothesline full of underwear just flapping away in the cool breeze.&nbsp;</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-urF8J7n8nzo/WRpwncRlWpI/AAAAAAAAB8g/dbAm1gIvdRghk5tlZPq-o_cYs6MIokhFACLcB/s1600/ozugoodmorningcover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-urF8J7n8nzo/WRpwncRlWpI/AAAAAAAAB8g/dbAm1gIvdRghk5tlZPq-o_cYs6MIokhFACLcB/s400/ozugoodmorningcover.jpg" width="283" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b>Video:</b></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Criterion released “Good Morning” on a bare-bones DVD way back in another century (Aug 22, 2000), and while I don't have that one for a point of reference, most reports describe the old transfer as one of their weaker ones.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Never fear. This 1080p upgrade, sourced from a 4K digital restoration, renders the film in sharp detail with a bright but never garish color palette. Close-ups really show off the detail in this high-def transfer which should make fans quite happy.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b>Audio:</b></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The linear PCM mono track is sharp, like just about every Criterion release. Toshiro Mayuzumi's jaunty score can't help but remind listeners of Jacques Tati, and it sounds quite good on this lossless audio. Optional English subtitles support the Japanese dialogue. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b>Extras:</b></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Cinephiles recognize David Bordwell as one of the most insightful film scholars still writing today. Bordwell helped to popularize the application of Vladmir Propp's narrative analysis in film studies and is renowned for his close stylistic breakdowns of art-house enigmas and Hong Kong action films. In a new 2017 interview (19 min.) recorded for the Criterion Collection, David Bordwell finally gets to talk about farts. Few could be more eloquent.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Except maybe David Cairns who aptly describes “Good Morning” as “Ozu's fartiest film” in “Transcendental Style and Flatulence” (17 min.) Cairns also touches on a few non-flatulent topics, as does Bordwell.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Criterion has also included a high-def upgrade of Ozu's 1932 silent film “I Was Born, But...” (90 min.), also included on the “Silent Ozu” set from what appears now to be Criterion's defunct Eclipse line. “Good Morning” is often described as a remake of “I Was Born, But..” as the earlier film also features two children who go on a strike (hunger strike this time) to express their frustration with the adult world. However, the two films are considerably different, with “Good Morning” being the much lighter of the two. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The disc also includes the 14 surviving minutes of Ozu's 1929 silent film “A Straightforward Boy.” This is an odd semi-comedy in which the title boy gets kidnapped, but turns the tables on his shady kidnapper – it ends with children pursuing the kidnapper, eager to get the same treatment he gave to the title boy which is... kinda weird.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The slim fold-out insert booklet includes an essay by critic Jonathan Rosenbaum, who also talks about farts, but not as extensively as in the video features on the disc.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b>Final Thoughts:</b></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">It's easy to dismiss “Good Morning” as a slight entry in the Ozu canon, but even the gentlest of comedies can still provide profound insights. The film convincingly captures the daily rhythms of a small neighborhood, and penetrates deeply to see what makes it work and what threatened to tear it all apart at the seams. With the inclusion of “I Was Born, But...” as an extra, this is a significant upgrade over the old SD release and a must-own for Ozu fans. </div>Christopher Longhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05964148369227874063noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4956783167516082390.post-44832135684403352872017-04-28T07:11:00.002-07:002017-04-28T07:11:31.791-07:00Blow-Up<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-OCUD1qcDn5k/WQNM5ijGfMI/AAAAAAAAB8A/hNB4GtJMo6Mxoj2D75OTQ-tRQP9dAnmBgCLcB/s1600/blowupcap2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-OCUD1qcDn5k/WQNM5ijGfMI/AAAAAAAAB8A/hNB4GtJMo6Mxoj2D75OTQ-tRQP9dAnmBgCLcB/s400/blowupcap2.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><b>BLOW-UP</b> (Antonioni, 1966)</div><div style="text-align: center;">Criterion Collection, Blu-ray, Release Date Mar 28, 2017</div><div style="text-align: center;">Review by Christopher S. Long</div><br /> <div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">“I didn't see,” repeats Thomas (David Hemmings), the London fashion photographer and protagonist of Michelangelo Antonioni's “Blow-Up” (1966). He's referring to a possible murder in the park that he didn't quite witness because he was too busy snapping pictures of the event. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">With the lens serving as intermediary, Thomas is one step removed from the real; his refined pursuit of perfect framing pushes him even further from messy flesh-and-blood reality. However, the camera is a reliable recording device, and when he develops the pictures later, he gradually unearths evidence that points him to what was happening right in front of his eyes. But exactly what it all means is a different story altogether, because that requires the interpretive powers of the human brain, a much less reliable device.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-eHQ3iiL7Q7A/WQNNfnpN5PI/AAAAAAAAB8I/5Nxi3Gp_08Qknn7SWiVF0g9M4jJuueXTwCLcB/s1600/blowupcap1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-eHQ3iiL7Q7A/WQNNfnpN5PI/AAAAAAAAB8I/5Nxi3Gp_08Qknn7SWiVF0g9M4jJuueXTwCLcB/s400/blowupcap1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The film's signature sequences are two prolonged stretches in which Thomas, ensconced in his posh London studio, examines the pictures with increasing interest, returning to his lab to blow up details within the photos as he gathers more clues to solve the mystery: a woman (Lynn Redgrave) looks off camera, a blurry hand grasping a gun gradually emerges into view. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Antonioni ratchets up the tension in these sequences by not tipping the viewer off, at least not at first, to what Thomas is in the process of discovering. We merely look at him looking and continuing to look, until finally he figures out what's going on, and why Redgrave's character is so eager to get the pictures back from him. Antonioni then spends the rest of the film methodically “unsolving” the case, leaving Thomas and the viewer knowing less than at the beginning. Events also reveal the stylishly disengaged young man, bored to tears by a daily routine which mostly involves beautiful young woman (including a young Jane Birkin) vying desperately for his attention, to be utterly impotent when he can no longer wield either a camera lens or his cultivated ennui as a shield against the real world.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">For a director who often professed an interest in the image before plot, the focus on a photographer intently studying his images feel like an overdue, um, development (sorry about that). Viewers might want to follow suit as well, scanning the frame intently for the exquisite and enigmatic images Antonioni and cinematographer Carlo Di Palma have provided: the London homes painted in bold blocks of primary colors, the bodies of slim leggy models arranged in lifeless poses, the constant interposition of thick vertical and horizontal lines that partially obscure the actors. Like Thomas, you might get even more disoriented upon ever-closer examination of the evidence, but, man, what an aesthetic rush.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Somehow, this film with only the semblance of a plot (that hardly any of the characters care much about) and nothing resembling an explanation at the end became a commercial hit as well as a critical darling, making it a genuine international sensation. It's tempting to think audiences were just smarter fifty years ago, but it's possible they queued up because they heard they might get to see some pubic hair, and also because the film vividly captured the emerging Swinging London scene, so vividly it's difficult to think of another film as closely linked with this odd and enduring patch of youth culture. That's a pretty remarkable accomplishment for a 54-year-old Italian making his first feature film in English, but this is the man who had just directed “Il Grido” (1957), <a href="http://www.dvdblureview.com/2015/03/lavventura.html">“L'avventura” (1960)</a>, <a href="http://www.dvdblureview.com/2015/03/leclisse.html">“L'eclisse”(1962)</a>, and “Red Desert” (1964), all in a row. That's damn close to the most remarkable accomplishment by any artist named Michelangelo, so making a masterpiece in a foreign country and language was really no biggie.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-qMO35txoPzs/WQNNETXVcZI/AAAAAAAAB8E/xRMdjDsBr4USuKPlYfx82rIWfkzyL3tNACLcB/s1600/blowupcover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-qMO35txoPzs/WQNNETXVcZI/AAAAAAAAB8E/xRMdjDsBr4USuKPlYfx82rIWfkzyL3tNACLcB/s320/blowupcover.jpg" width="227" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b>Video:</b></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The film is presented in its original 1.85:1 aspect ratio. Color is important in any color film, but rarely more so than in an Antonioni color film. It sure looks like this new 1080p transfer gets it right – those blue and red painted houses pop off the screen. Thomas's busily decorated studio is visible in all its sharp detail. Flesh tones are warm, everything looks great in motion. I'm told there's some controversy over the correct aspect ratio which, as usual, is of little interest. Overall, this is the best I've ever seen “Blow-Up” look.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b>Audio:</b></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The linear PCM mono audio track is, like almost all Criterion mixes, crisp and free of any distortion or drop off. The film's score by Herbie Hancock, his first soundtrack, is an all-time great one and sounds fantastic here. The Yardbirds also drop in to perform a number. There are long stretches with minimal or no dialogue and only quiet sound effects (leaves rustling in the wind, a camera snapping, a tennis ball bouncing) and it's all clearly presented here. Optional English subtitles support the English audio.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b>Extras:</b></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">This is yet another fully-loaded Criterion release.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">“Blow Up of 'Blow-Up'” (2016, 54 min.), directed by Valentina Agostini, is a documentary made for the 50<sup>th</sup> anniversary of the film's release last year, and combines interviews with crew members along with visits to some of the film's locations. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The disc also includes several interviews, both old and new. New for this Criterion release is an interview with Vanessa Redgrave (2016, 44 min.) which is shot in B&amp;W for some reason, and which records a Q&amp;A with the actress after a recent screening of “Blow-Up.” It's a pretty extensive conversation considering how briefly she's actually in the movie. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">We get an older interview with actress Jane Birkin (1989, 9 min.), who plays “The Blonde” with whom Thomas briefly frolics, and she tells an interesting story about her very odd audition for the film. Two older interviews with lead David Hemmings are also included. First is a short 1968 interview (5 min.) shot on the set of “Only When I Larf.” It's mildly amusing to see Hemmings try to squeeze in interviews between calls to set, but otherwise this is just about content-free. Hemmings' appearance on a 1977 episode of “City Lights” (20 min.) is much more interesting. A collection of excerpts from the 2001 documentary “Michelangelo Antonioni: The Eye That Changed America” (5 min. total of excerpts) includes a brief clip of Antonioni accepting the 1967 Palme d'Or at Cannes and a few short interviews with the director.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The menu selection “Antonioni's Hypnotic Vision” leads to two separate features. “Modernism” (2016, 16 min.) provides curator and art historian David Alan Mellor an opportunity to discuss some of Antonioni's influences from the world of painting, including a major shift in the director's work which Mellor attributes, at least in part, to Antonioni's first encounter with the work of Robert Rauschenberg. I liked this piece quite a bit. “Photography” combines separate interviews with historian Philippe Garner and Walter Moser, head of the photography collection at the Albertina museum in Vienna.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The extras wrap up with a Teaser (1 min.) and a Trailer (2 min.)</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The thick, square-bound insert booklet includes an essay by film scholar David Forgacs, an on-set account by Stig Bjorkman, questionnaires Antonioni sent to London photographers while researching the film, and the short story from which the film was very, very loosely inspired, “Blow-Up” by World Hopscotch Champion Jose Cortazar. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b>Final Thoughts:</b></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">“Blow-Up” might not be one of my five favorite Antonioni films. It is also one of my favorite films. Criterion's release is surely the definitive one to date, and it's tough to imagine a significantly superior one. The transfer is strong, the extras voluminous, and even the insert booklet is impressive. It's only April, but this vaults to the top of the list for best Blu-ray releases of 2017.</div>Christopher Longhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05964148369227874063noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4956783167516082390.post-23670245681083359102017-04-25T06:55:00.000-07:002017-04-28T07:14:36.598-07:00Tampopo<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-4-rUOfe5C7w/WQCmWVJVrHI/AAAAAAAAB7s/ZPITgPjq2T0Ws19gaRljedc_wrzlmZm0gCLcB/s1600/tampopocap2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-4-rUOfe5C7w/WQCmWVJVrHI/AAAAAAAAB7s/ZPITgPjq2T0Ws19gaRljedc_wrzlmZm0gCLcB/s400/tampopocap2.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><b>TAMPOPO</b> (Itami, 1985)</div><div style="text-align: center;">Criterion Collection, Blu-ray, Release Date Apr 25, 2017</div><div style="text-align: center;">Review by Christopher S. Long</div><br /><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Everyone in writer-director Juzo Itami's crowd-pleaser “Tampopo” (1985) has strong opinions about food, from stuffy businessmen to dapper yakuza to homeless men who speak passionately of the virtues of Pichon Lalande while huddling for warmth. If the baby we see suckling contentedly at momma's breast could talk, it would surely be rating the milk for both temperature and sweetness.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The action kicks off when a pair of epicurean truckers, cowboy-hat clad Goro (Tsutomu Yamazaki) and his sidekick Gun (a young Ken Watanabe), roll into a dusty ol' ramen shop run by a widow (Nobuko Miyamaoto) who hasn't quite mastered her craft just yet. Her name is Tampopo and when she asks the truckers for their opinion about her work, they break the news to her bluntly: “Your ramen sucks.”</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />It's not an insult. Though “Tampopo” is full of macho men posturing and threatening violence, the film is defined by the sense of community that a love and respect for good food engenders. Tampopo (her name means “Dandelion” by the way) accepts their honest criticism and then pleads for their mentorship, never really questioning whether two truckers are qualified to consult on restaurant management. Goro throws himself into the project with the same gusto with which he slurps noodles, running Tampopo through a series of kitchen drills and whipping her into shape in a montage intended to evoke the “Rocky” franchise. As Tampopo runs laps around Goro's bike (after all, he's not the one training), he barks out a gruff but friendly motivational message, “Ramen takes stamina!”</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Itami serves up numerous side dishes along the way in the form of a series of vignettes unconnected to the main narrative. A fussy woman instructs her female charges on the proper etiquette for eating spaghetti without making a sound (it's considered rude abroad, she notes), but when they hear another man in the restaurant inhaling his pasta with abandon, they all follow suit with glee. A ramen sensei (in what turns out to be one of those ubiquitous ramen novels we all know and love) instructs his pupil on the proper way to consume the soup: “Quietly apologize to the pork.” A white-clad gangster (Koji Yakusho) returns periodically, sometimes directly addressing the audience when not occupied with food-assisted frolics with his very game girlfriend.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">If you think every scene in a movie should advance the story (by which I mean if you've written a book on Hollywood screenwriting), you might get annoyed. If you can just savor each moment and each personality for its own textural qualities, you should have fun, which is obviously what Itami is after. In “Tampopo”, both food and film are intended to be enjoyed by everyone, and in precisely the way they wish to enjoy it all. Just as long as it's done with passion.&nbsp;</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-E0dGJiXPjyU/WQCmieixKTI/AAAAAAAAB7w/G8IdrNz5lK412bFEq5BmZq5JdtZQytPxQCLcB/s1600/tampopocover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-E0dGJiXPjyU/WQCmieixKTI/AAAAAAAAB7w/G8IdrNz5lK412bFEq5BmZq5JdtZQytPxQCLcB/s320/tampopocover.jpg" width="227" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b>Video:</b></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The film is presented in its original 1.85: aspect ratio. Criterion's “new digital restoration... in 4K resolution” is razor sharp and pops with rich color. I don't own a previous DVD copy of this, but I remember thinking the film looked a bit washed out. That was obviously a product of the transfer and has been more than taken care of here. This looks great all around.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b>Audio:</b></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The linear PCM mono track is crisp and fairly simple in design. Itami mixes in some comic sound effects (to accentuate noodle slurping, for example) but nothing too complex. The playful score by Kunihiko Murai sounds strong as well. Optional English subtitles support the Japanese audio.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b>Extras:</b></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Criterion's April releases sure don't cheat on the extras.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">“The Making of 'Tampopo'” (1985, 90 min.) is a documentary shot during the film's production. Narrated by Itami, it's fairly superficial and probably a bit too long, but it's fun for fans.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The disc includes new interviews with lead actress Nobuko Miyamoto (2016, 11 min.) and food stylist Seiko Ogawa (2016, 16 min.) Miyamoto discusses her conception of the character as well as working with Itami, who was also her husband – they remained married until his death in 1997. “Tampopo” is often given credit for popularizing ramen abroad and even invigorating the ramen scene in Japan, and Ogawa discusses the film's contribution to food culture. A similar discussion continues in “The Perfect Bowl” (2016, 22 min.), featuring interviews with several chefs as well as ramen scholar Hiroshi Oosaki.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">“The Amateur and The Craftsperson” (2017, 10 min.) is a short video essay by filmmakers Tony Zhou and Taylor Ramos, which argues that the film's central theme is the role of the amateur in appreciating aesthetic experiences.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">“Rubber Band Pistol” (1962, 32 min.) is Itami's first film, and it's rough and messy and quite enjoyable, if a bit unwieldy in that uncomfortable “too long to be a short, too short to be a feature” zone.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Finally, we get a Theatrical Trailer (2 min.)</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The slim fold-out insert booklet includes an essay by good and culture writer Willy Blackmore.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b>Final Thoughts:</b></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Since I'm definitely not a foodie (I love food – I just don't care much how it's made, as long as it's plentiful), I sometimes don't fully warm up the most beloved food movies, like “Babette's Feast” (1987). “Tampopo” is an exception. It's so sweet, sincere, and funny (oh, yeah, and also really well-made) I can't help but enjoy it. “Tampopo” won a world-wide cult following when it was released, and its appeal remains undiminished more than thirty years later. </div>Christopher Longhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05964148369227874063noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4956783167516082390.post-77304194594558109362017-04-21T06:47:00.000-07:002017-04-28T07:15:17.808-07:00Buena Vista Social Club<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-J0KDVJE6NkA/WP4BpmumeeI/AAAAAAAAB7Y/icqrXONW8scp5mR9JmB3WCH3DMbuZg9vwCLcB/s1600/buenavistaposter1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-J0KDVJE6NkA/WP4BpmumeeI/AAAAAAAAB7Y/icqrXONW8scp5mR9JmB3WCH3DMbuZg9vwCLcB/s320/buenavistaposter1.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><b>BUENA VISTA SOCIAL CLUB</b> (1999, Wenders)</div><div style="text-align: center;">Criterion Collection, Blu-ray, Release Date Apr 18, 2017</div><div style="text-align: center;">Review by Christopher S. Long</div><br /><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The secret to the smash success of Wim Wenders' “Buena Vista Social Club” (1999) is no secret at all: it dishes up great music and that most reliable staple of all filmmaking both fictional and non-fictional, instantly likeable characters.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The title album had been released two years earlier to great success, in part thanks to the producing and marketing efforts of American musician Ry Cooder, who was keen to share the sounds of the great Cuban soneros of the pre-Castro era who, if not forgotten, were not the stars they deserved to be. The album was an instant hit, but Wenders' follow-up documentary, which directly follows Cooder on trips to Havana as well as on tour with the Club, launched it into the stratosphere as one of the best-selling records in the world. Where Cooder helped to sell the music, Wenders painted vivid portraits of the musicians behind the sound. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Of course, the real credit belongs to the performers themselves whose extraordinary appeal revolves around their definitive repudiation of any notion that advancing age must lead to gradual obsolescence. Ranging from their swinging sixties to their virile nineties, these singers, piano players, guitarists and percussionists leap off the screen as the youngest, freshest act in all of world music. Listeners encountering them for the first time had no doubt that they were hearing these performers right in the the primes of their careers.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Singer Ibrahim Ferrer emerges as the film's star. A mere lad of seventy, Ferrer's smiling face lights up the frame and his soulful baritone is so rich and elegant, audiences will be shocked to learn that the Buena Vista Social Club was his first broad success aside from his club days in the fifties. Singer Compay Segundo charms audiences with a knowing wink by noting that, at age ninety, his main interests in life remain women and rum, and music too. Pianist Ruben Gonzalez and singer Omara Portuondo (in her mid-sixties, the kid in the group) are so charismatic, you only regret that the film afford them so little time.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Wenders has minimal interest in presenting context or exploring background, so curious viewers will have to hit Google to learn where some of these performers got their starts or even what the title actually refers to. Instead, Wenders balances the film between stage performances and studio recording sessions, and traveling shots that glide through the streets of Havana or probe gently into the homes and private lives of the musicians. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">At times, I find myself frustrated by Wenders' predilection for cutting from the middle of a rollicking number to another shot of waves splashing over the sides of a low-lying Havana bridge, but fans can always cue up the album for more sustained blasts of musical bliss. The film tracks the band's journey from Havana to a sold-out concert in Amsterdam and ultimately to a climactic Carnegie Hall performance with relish, but the point, I believe, is that their ongoing story consists of far more than just a few high-profile concerts, or even that smash album.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">I remembered “Buena Vista Social Club” as being much more of a sustained rush than it actually is. Its pleasures are more mellow and contemplative than your typical concert film, and if it leaves you wanting much more of the actual music, then consider the possibility that that was precisely Wenders' intention.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-tWaeG2SSiCE/WP4B0vRL63I/AAAAAAAAB7c/FNLOu3kG7IQetrYyrVexJRvMwRf13UnNwCLcB/s1600/buenavistacover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-tWaeG2SSiCE/WP4B0vRL63I/AAAAAAAAB7c/FNLOu3kG7IQetrYyrVexJRvMwRf13UnNwCLcB/s320/buenavistacover.jpg" width="227" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b>Video:</b></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The film is presented in Wenders' preferred aspect ratio of 1.78:1. This was filmed during the brief period where MiniDV was all the rage. It felt like it looked good then, but admittedly hasn't worn well even after a short period of time. The original master tape was used to make a 35 mm negative and that was the source for Criterion's digital restoration. I'm not sure exactly how much restoration was done, but the image quality is crisp throughout even if the MiniDV color scheme inevitably looks a bit wan and the overall look will never knock anyone out. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b>Audio:</b></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The DTS-HD Master Audio 5.1 track is rich and vibrant and does justice to the music that is the heart and soul of the project. Optional English subtitles support the Spanish and English dialogue.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b>Extras:</b></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Criterion has piled on the extras once again, though some have been imported from earlier releases.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The commentary track with Wim Wenders was recorded in 1999, way back in another century.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Wenders also chimes in with a new interview (Dec 2016, 26 min.) recorded for Criterion in which he shares his obvious fondness for his subjects, and also speaks about his long-term working relationship with Ry Cooder.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The disc also includes a 1998 interview with Compay Segundo (60 min.), originally broadcast on the Spanish television show “Las Claves.” For fans who want much more of this nonagenarian dynamo, the interview delivers the goods.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">We also get a series of short radio interviews with various Club members, including Eliades Ochoa (10 min.), Manuel “Puntillita” Licea (8 min.), Orlando “Cachaito” Lopez (5 min.), Manuel “Guajiro” Mirabel (7 min.), Juan De Marcos Gonzalez (11 min.), Omara Portuando (8 min.), Ibrahim Ferrer (6 min.), Barbarito Torres (7 min.), Pio Leyva (6 min.), Ruben Gonzalez (7 min.), Manuel Galban (9 min.), and Alberto “Virgilio” Valdes (8 min.) It's more than a little sad to realize that so many of the performers have since passed on – it still feels like many of us only just met them – but that only makes these interviews even more valuable.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Finally, the disc includes three additional scenes (19 min. total) which includes a full version of the song “Candela” performed in Amsterdam as well as a Theatrical Trailer (93 seconds).</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The insert booklet includes a lengthy essay by author and geographer Joshua Jelly-Schapiro.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b>Film Value:</b></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">I dug up one review that predicted the “Buena Vista Social Club” would be unlikely to win over any new fans. Safe to say that call didn't pan out. “BVSC” is one of the most successful music documentaries of the past few decades, and its many pleasures are obvious to all. I do wish it was heavier on the music and perhaps a bit lighter on tracking shots through the streets of Havana, but that's a minor quibble, and fans who get a taste of the performers in this movie now have ample opportunities to seek out more of their work. </div>Christopher Longhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05964148369227874063noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4956783167516082390.post-5257859792143474262017-04-20T21:54:00.000-07:002017-04-20T11:01:27.429-07:00Safety Last!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-jlIGM17adT4/VnD706utlHI/AAAAAAAABbg/jTO6aXh0rBc/s1600/safetylastcap2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-jlIGM17adT4/VnD706utlHI/AAAAAAAABbg/jTO6aXh0rBc/s400/safetylastcap2.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><b>SAFETY LAST!</b> (Lloyd, 1923)</div><div style="text-align: center;">Criterion Collection, Blu-ray, Release Date June 18, 2013</div><div style="text-align: center;">Review by Christopher S. Long</div><br />(<i>Re-posted, along with my review of Speedy, in honor of Harold Lloyd's birthday.</i>)<br /><br /><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Belief is an antiquated concept in the era of computer-generated cinema, but back in an age when the movies still had something to do with photography audiences believed in Harold Lloyd. For a grueling, thrilling, scary, hilarious twenty minutes, they believed that Harold Lloyd was climbing the side of a department store building and that he could fall at any minute. The tagline might have been, “You'll believe a man can die.”</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Sure, the papers would probably have mentioned if Harold Lloyd had really splattered all over downtown Los Angeles, but this plucky little bugger with his horn-rimmed glasses and straw hat was no blob of pixels. He was an everyday Joe who had to deal with everyday problems like work and romance and gravity. The character he played was no daredevil either; he was just a guy who somehow found himself in a situation (OK, he did it to himself) where he had to scramble up a massive building one hardscrabble story at a time, facing brand new obstacles at each leg of the journey: pigeons, badminton nets, spinning anemometers, and the most famous clock in the history of cinema. He fell or almost fell time and time again, and audiences gasped each time, and then laughed when he recovered, and then gasped again at the next setback.&nbsp;</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-aTM4a4vLdGM/VnD7_4wUROI/AAAAAAAABbo/fr65plRSygI/s1600/safetylastcap4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-aTM4a4vLdGM/VnD7_4wUROI/AAAAAAAABbo/fr65plRSygI/s400/safetylastcap4.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The real Harold Lloyd might have had a safety mattress waiting for him on a platform about ten feet below, but even with a partially prosthetic hand (he had lost a couple fingers to a prop bomb that turned out to be a little too real) he was really letting it all hang out, his feet swinging free over the city streets as he dug his fingers, both real and fake, into ledges or dangled from the giant hands of a malfunctioning clock, finding a way to drag his body past overhangs that hung way, way over. The twenty-minute climb was the ultimate expression of a decade defined by daring stunts (human flies and flagpole sitters were all the rage) and it is certainly one of the defining sequences of silent cinema. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">By now, Harold Lloyd's name has been restored to its proper place in the history books, but he is still generally viewed as silent comedy's “third genius” after Charlie Chaplin and Buster Keaton. Lloyd was just as popular in his day, but he held closely to the rights to all his films and didn't care to see them played on television where he had no control over broadcast editing, so his public profile diminished relative to his fellow geniuses. Film buffs and historians never let his memory fade, but it took plenty of heavy lifting to get his films back in circulation, an effort that got an extra boost from the advent of the DVD market.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">“Safety Last!” (1923) remains the best known of his movies and with good reason. By the early-'20s, Lloyd had moved on from his Tramp-knockoff character Lonesome Luke and perfected his signature Glasses Character who could be meek or aggressive, sly or buffoonish, but always used those trademark glasses (no lenses, mind you) to forge a direct connection with the audience. Where Chaplin was an alien and Keaton was some kind of superhero, Lloyd as Glasses was an everyman. In “Safety Last!” he is a country lad who moves to the big city to make his fortune before he sends for the love of his life, played by Mildred Davis who also turned out to be the love of Lloyd's life. He works in a department store where he is unappreciated by his bosses and by his demanding customers, but never gives anything less than maximum effort, not for a second.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-o_plTqYgTyc/VnD8HMk95hI/AAAAAAAABbw/jZ748wQXa2g/s1600/safetylastcap3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-o_plTqYgTyc/VnD8HMk95hI/AAAAAAAABbw/jZ748wQXa2g/s400/safetylastcap3.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">That was Lloyd's trademark as a craftsman and a performer as well. Never content to tell one joke, he constructed elaborate gags that led to other gags and then still more, a series of rapid-fire payoffs that kept audiences on their toes. Screenwriting manuals have turned the word “obstacle” into a risible cliché, but Lloyd knew all about obstacles and how to make viewers care as they watched him overcome one after another on top of another stacked inside of still another. Escalating action? Yeah, escalating right up a damn building! </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The situations were utterly implausible but completely believable because of Lloyd's intense, wired physical presence. Forever hanging from that clock, he is the avatar of a heroic age of filmmaking where bodies defied gravity because they had no choice. It wasn't going to get fixed in post-production. No digital buffing or polishing, just sinew and sheer tenacity. We'll never see anything like it again, but that's OK because ninety years of evidence has proven that nobody's ever going to do it better.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-QxOVbWACFzA/VnD8OWauhnI/AAAAAAAABb4/87sZmkryHCo/s1600/safetylastcover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-QxOVbWACFzA/VnD8OWauhnI/AAAAAAAABb4/87sZmkryHCo/s400/safetylastcover.jpg" width="283" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b>Video: </b></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The film is presented in its original 1.37:1 aspect ratio. From the Criterion booklet, “The film is also presented at a variable frame rate of approximately 22 frames per second to conform to film historian Kevin Brownlow's presentation and the Carl Davis score that accompanies it.” It's a 1080i transfer, a rare interlaced high-def effort from Criterion, but the interlacing is barely noticeable at all. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">There are scratches and bits of debris evident from the source material at times, but overall this high-def transfer is pretty spectacular with a rich gain structure and shockingly detailed image quality throughout. For anyone used to settling for whatever version you could find in the '80s and even for folks familiar with the solid but unspectacular SD release in 2005, this upgrade is quite a revelation. Crisp, sharp contrast, everything you could ask for. This movie is 90 years old?</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b>Audio:</b></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">As you may know, silent films were seldom played silently. Criterion offers two scores. The default option is a jazzy orchestral score by Carl Davis, recorded in 1989. Second is a score by organist Gaylord Carter that was improvised to a screening of the film circa 1969. Carter is described as Lloyd's favorite theater organist. The Davis score is presented in stereo, the Carter score in mono, though I don't think you can tell much difference on that front. I prefer the Davis score, but they're both worth sampling. Both sound sharp and resonant in linear PCM mixes.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b>Extras:</b></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Some of the extras were included on the SD release in New Line's 2005 “Harold Lloyd Comedy Collection” while others are new for this Criterion release.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The commentary track (offered on the SD) was recorded in 2005 and features critic Leonard Maltin in conversation with Harold Lloyd's archivist Richard Correll. It's rather breezy in nature and features a lot of scene-by-scene appreciations (Wow, isn't this awesome!) but also includes some historical and contextual information. Overall, it's mildly disappointing but of some interest.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Criterion has included an introduction (17 min.) by Suzanne Lloyd, Harold's granddaughter who was raised in Mr. Lloyd's house. I don't know if this was included on the old SD or is new for this set.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">“Harold Lloyd: The Third Genius” (1989, 108 min.) is a great two-part television documentary directed by Kevin Brownlow and David Gill and narrated by director Lindsay Anderson. The program, originally presented as part of the American Masters series, is essential viewing for any Lloyd aficionado and includes ample archival footage along with interviews with Lloyd's collaborators, including producer/director Hal Roach. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">“Locations and Effects” (2013, 20 min.) is a new interview with writer John Bengtson and visual effects expert Craig Barron which provides a fascinating analysis of both the downtown Los Angeles locations featured in the movie (notice the three different buildings visible in the background as Glasses makes his climb) and the effects used. Finding out about the tricks used will only leave you more amazed by the movie.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Criterion has also included a new interview with composer Carl Davis (2013, 24 min.) who talks about his work on “Safety Last!” and other silent films he has composed new scores for since the '80s.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Best of all, we also get new restorations of three of Lloyd's short films: “Take a Chance” (1918), “Young Mr. Jazz” (1919), and “His Royal Slyness” (1920). None of these films were included on the New Line boxed set. Each film comes with optional commentary tracks by Richard Correll and John Bengtson.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The 20-page insert booklet includes an essay by critic Ed Park.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b>Film Value:</b></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">“Safety Last!” has finally received the home theater presentation it deserves. Of course it's highly recommended.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div>Christopher Longhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05964148369227874063noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4956783167516082390.post-36579976344089296752017-04-20T11:25:00.000-07:002017-04-20T10:59:41.558-07:00Speedy<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-XUswlI9t2OM/VnG5kVPQ3VI/AAAAAAAABcI/-2DN8U6P2lc/s1600/speedycap3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-XUswlI9t2OM/VnG5kVPQ3VI/AAAAAAAABcI/-2DN8U6P2lc/s400/speedycap3.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><b>SPEEDY</b> (Lloyd, 1928)</div><div style="text-align: center;">Criterion Collection, Blu-ray, Release Date Dec 8, 2015</div><div style="text-align: center;">Review by Christopher S. Long</div><br /><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">This iteration of Harold Lloyd's trademark Glasses Character earns his nickname Speedy (also the real Lloyd's nickname). A bundle of fast-twitch nerves, he races from one self-generated crisis to the next, leaving a trail of wreckage in his well-meaning wake.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">This makes New York City, the town “where everyone's in a hurry,” the perfect home for Speedy. But while Lloyd's signature character was usually eager to fit in, whether in college (“The Freshman”) or at work (“Safety Last!”), he earned sympathy from the audience by situating himself proudly as an outsider. The young go-getting Speedy (also identified as Harold Swift on a series of traffic tickets scrawled by an exasperated policeman) actually makes his home in a quieter part of the city (round about Greenwich Village) where the more leisurely pace of life is embodied by Pop Dillon (Bert Woodruff) who operates the last remaining horse-drawn trolley car in New York.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">When Pop's business is threatened by a corrupt rail tycoon who intends to acquire the old man's track by any means necessary, Speedy rushes to assist Pop. No doubt the young man is motivated by his love for Pop's charming granddaughter Jane (Ann Christy), but he also has the kind of big heart that drives him irresistibly to the cause of the underdog; Speedy will also ally with a group of grizzled Civil War veterans in a sprawling battle against the cheap hoodlums seeking to sink Pop's business, the vastly superior prequel to “Gangs of New York.”</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">“Speedy” (1928) was released at the tail end of a remarkable box-office run by Lloyd that rivaled or exceeded Charlie Chaplin's and would also be Lloyd's final silent feature – silent cinema itself would be all but finished a year later. His Glasses character was well-established by then, but the most noticeable change this time was a major shift in setting. Keen to move away from overly-familiar Southern California locations, Lloyd briefly considered shooting in Europe, then settled on filming on location in New York despite producer Hal Roach warning him of the inevitable logistical nightmares. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Lloyd needed to be pretty speedy on set. As one of the most recognizable people in America, he had to be ready to jump right into action in Greenwich Village or Times Square before crowds figured out what was happening. In some scenes, Lloyd's team deftly incorporated the throngs of onlookers into the action. Many sequences, both outdoor and indoor, were still filmed on studio sets back west, but the movie's shots of Coney Island, including a breath-taking vista of its glittering night-time lights, still thrill today. Some of the Coney Island rides were shot on location, others in studio, and all look so outrageously dangerous they speak of a less-litigious era. And that part where Lloyd flips himself the bird in the funhouse mirror remains the stuff of legend.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://33.media.tumblr.com/1ca247da062450407e6876310a8e3d90/tumblr_mfj57nNPnZ1qbuqcio1_500.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://33.media.tumblr.com/1ca247da062450407e6876310a8e3d90/tumblr_mfj57nNPnZ1qbuqcio1_500.gif" width="320" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Even if you're not a city buff, “Speedy” offers yet another distinct thrill. Speedy is a die-hard baseball fan who requires that his numerous short-term jobs (he always finds another one on Monday) be within “phoning distance” of Yankee Stadium. In one of the film's quietest but niftiest gags, Speedy, working as a soda jerk, relays phone updates of the Yankees score to the kitchen staff by arranging bagels and pretzels in a display case to mimic the inning-by-inning scores. Zeroes are easy, threes a bit trickier.&nbsp;</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-yNas-7gzrKs/VnG5upl6ZsI/AAAAAAAABcQ/ERVX36FsfWA/s1600/speedycap1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-yNas-7gzrKs/VnG5upl6ZsI/AAAAAAAABcQ/ERVX36FsfWA/s400/speedycap1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Speedy later gets works as a taxi driver, a gig that he only holds onto for a few hours because that's just the way he rolls, but Lloyd finds the time to pick up one of the few fares in the country who was more famous than him. In the midst of his legendary 1927 season, Babe Ruth appears as himself, first handing out signed memorabilia to kids and then as an unwitting victim locked in the back seat of Speedy's taxi. Rattled and shaken by the frantic ride, Ruth proves to have an even bigger heart than the film's star and invites Speedy in to watch the game. Unsurprisingly, Speedy doesn't stay seated for more than a few minutes before unleashing chaos, but it's the thought that counts, Babe.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Where “Safety Last!” featured one of cinema's most precise and awe-inspiring displays of virtuosity, “Speedy” settles more for madcap hijinks, sheer kinetic frenzy. The rumble between the aging Civil War vets and young toughs is a mess of grappling bodies livened by a few specific stunts, and the framing story about Pop's horsecar is put on hold for long stretches in favor of what's really important: racing furiously from one gag (or one vehicle) to the next with minimal concern for narrative structure.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Which is exactly as it should be when you've got a performer as winning and as relentless as Harold Lloyd, a star who connected with audiences like few others before or since. Of course, that means that Speedy ultimately saves Pop and gets the girl, and if you consider that a spoiler, welcome to your first movie. You've picked a great one to start with!</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-OTBItxynw60/VnG51GlvzqI/AAAAAAAABcY/SZbdJC3z_zU/s1600/speedycover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-OTBItxynw60/VnG51GlvzqI/AAAAAAAABcY/SZbdJC3z_zU/s400/speedycover.jpg" width="283" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b>Video:</b></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The film is presented in its original 1.33:1 aspect ratio. The film was restored by Digital Film Restore in Burbank, CA and “this new digital transfer was created in 4K resolution... from a safety fine-grain master positive deposited at the UCLA Film &amp; Television Archive by the Harold Lloyd estate.” Some scenes were scanned from the archive's preservation negative.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">In high-def, this restored transfer looks fabulous with strong black-and-white contrast and a thick grain structure that provides a sense of texture and depth, which is all a way of saying this looks very filmic. There are some minor instances of damage and a few skipped frames, but that can all be forgiven for the opportunity to this 1928 film in such a marvelous version. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b>Audio:</b></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The silent film is accompanied by a 1992 score by composer Carl Davis. The lively score has been synchronized and restored for this release and is presented in uncompressed stereo. It sounds great throughout, rich and resonant. Hey, how long do you expect an Audio section for a silent film to be?</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b>Extras:</b></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Criterion has provided an extensive and varied collection of extras for this Blu-ray release.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The film is accompanied by a new commentary track featuring Bruce Goldstein, director of repertory programming at the New York Film Forum and Scott McGee, director of program production at Turner Classic Movies.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Goldstein returns as director and onscreen narrator of “In The Footsteps of 'Speedy'” (2015, 31 min.) This short documentary discusses the many New York locations featured in the film along with background about the production and some great still photos. Goldstein is equally enthusiastic about the movie and about New York and offers plenty of remarkably detailed analysis of the city locations. This will be a treat for fans of urban history.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The bigger treat for a baseball junky like me is the lengthy (40 min.) Babe Ruth feature included on this disc. David Filipi, director of film and video at the Wexner Center for the Arts at Ohio State University has curated a program of archival film clips featuring the Babe. In this feature, he provides on-screen introductions for the remarkable variety of clips included. They're all great, but some of the highlights include seeing Babe Ruth playing golf with pitcher Bob Shawkey, umpire Bill Klem and New York Governor Al Smith; football coach Knute Rockne visiting Yankee Stadium to see Ruth, Lou Gehrig and Yankee manager Miller Huggins, and Babe conducting a 1940 hitting clinic for boys at Yankee Stadium. You also get some game footage, including brief clips from the 1932 World Series and the first two All-Star games. I love every second of this!</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The disc also includes another short feature (4 min.) narrated by Bruce Goldstein, this time talking briefly about some deleted scenes with still photos as visual accompaniment.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">We also get a selection of Home Movie (18 min.) from the Harold Lloyd Archives with narration by the director's granddaughter Suzanne Lloyd. This mostly consists of footage of Lloyd and family around the house, often entertaining their baby daughter Gloria (Suzanne's mother). Suzanne provides some affectionate and engaging commentary which helps when the footage drags on and feels a bit redundant.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The final extra is the 1919 short film “Bumping Into Broadway” (26 min.), the first two-reeler to feature the Glasses Character. The film is set in New York though not filmed there. Lloyd plays an aspiring playwright who crosses paths with a struggling show girl played by star Bebe Daniels. I thought this short was fantastic and darned funny. It benefits from a peppy 2004 score by Robert Israel. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The fold-out insert booklet features an essay by critic Phillip Lopate.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b>Film Value:</b></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Harold Lloyd was s superstar every bit on par with Chaplin and Keaton in the '20s. “Speedy” is a splendid entertainment that showcases Lloyd at the height of his powers. Criterion has included some fantastic extras to augment the finest transfer you're likely to see of Lloyd's final silent feature. And the Babe Ruth program on the disc makes this an option for baseball fans who have yet to discover the joys of Harold Lloyd. </div>Christopher Longhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05964148369227874063noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4956783167516082390.post-74072661622152613622017-04-19T11:12:00.001-07:002017-04-19T11:12:54.896-07:00Woman of the Year<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-kZAKqNbseUU/WPeoGVzqbKI/AAAAAAAAB64/vZNre3hr338pN2ZR86MTFwps60TZ3kVOgCLcB/s1600/womanofyearcap2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-kZAKqNbseUU/WPeoGVzqbKI/AAAAAAAAB64/vZNre3hr338pN2ZR86MTFwps60TZ3kVOgCLcB/s400/womanofyearcap2.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><b>WOMAN OF THE YEAR</b> (Stevens, 1942)</div><div style="text-align: center;">Criterion Collection, Blu-ray, Release Date Apr 18, 2017</div><div style="text-align: center;">Review by Christopher S. Long</div><br /> <div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">In a 1986 documentary about Spencer Tracy included on this Criterion disc, a very enthusiastic Katharine Hepburn promises neophyte viewers about to be introduced to Tracy's work that their impending experience will be “like eating a baked potato for the first time.” Tubers aren't often employed as sexy marketing metaphors, and Hepburn didn't exactly kick off a trend here, but she goes on to explain that baked potatoes are “pure” and “of the earth” and always “dependable.”</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">All of those descriptions seem perfectly apt for the hard-working, versatile star of 75 films who played roles ranging from the idealistic Father Flanagan in “Boys' Town” (1938) to a thinly-fictionalized stand-in for crusading lawyer Clarence Darrow in “Inherit the Wind' (1960). Earthy and dependable are not, however, the most likely ingredients for the creation of a romantic comedy lead. Nonetheless, the pairing of Tracy and Hepburn, often though not always in romantic comedies, became one of Hollywood's most reliable box-office pairings, and it all began with “Woman of the Year” (1942).</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Tracy and Hepburn portray journalists who work at the same newspaper (The New York Chronicle, a go-to fake newspaper name), but who inhabit completely different worlds. Sam Craig (Tracy) is a gruff, working-class sportswriter who sputters indignantly when he hears the sophisticated political reporter Tess Harding (Hepburn) poo-poohing the great American pastime of baseball as an inessential distraction during wartime. Tess might be described as the second-most important “dame” in America after Mrs. Roosevelt, but Sam intends to knock her down a peg or two. Dueling newspaper columns substitute for a more traditional meet-cute, soon forcing the odd couple into each other's arms. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Their dance of seduction isn't exactly elegant. It's more like watching an aging, sleepy, slightly tipsy butcher awkwardly put his few limited moves on an undernourished grammar instructor, but audiences thrilled to the chemistry that also sparked an off-screen relationship and led to future pairings in blockbusters like “Adam's Rib” (1949), probably their most successful and popular film together.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-KZS9whi93pA/WPeoOJSaHvI/AAAAAAAAB68/-GSBb2Co6wM8asmQToFxSC9RUuIx_mVMwCLcB/s1600/womanofyearposter.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-KZS9whi93pA/WPeoOJSaHvI/AAAAAAAAB68/-GSBb2Co6wM8asmQToFxSC9RUuIx_mVMwCLcB/s320/womanofyearposter.jpg" width="212" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">If Tess and Sam's insta-romance seems like a contrivance, the Oscar-winning screenplay by Ring Lardner Jr. and Michael Kanin quickly assures viewers that the unlikely couple will live happily never after, at least not before going through their mutual trials. Globe-trotting, politically-engaged Tess sees no reason to change her working habits just because she's changed her last name, and besides it's up to her to rescue Greek refugees and help scientists freshly escaped from the Nazis. This leaves Sam on his own to try to muscle his way into a very crowded world full of busybody personal secretaries, constant phone calls, and a steadily thrumming teletype. For you youngsters, the teletype is a device that brought information from the world into the home, and Tess is constantly staring at her toy, often ignoring people in the room with her, for fear of missing out on the latest news. But those were different times. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Director George Stevens, favored by Hepburn for this film because he was a “very male man”, is better known today for more serious fare like “A Place in the Sun” (1951), “Shane” (1953), and “Giant” (1956). However, Stevens's pre-war output crossed multiple genres from “boudoir” comedies to “Swing Time” (1936), easily one of the best Astaire-Rogers vehicles.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The director disliked the term “screwball” as applied to romantic comedies of the time, or at least to his comedies, and there's nothing particularly screwball about his approach. Stevens prefers to center sequences on Tracy's static detachment and Hepburn's controlled, sometimes icy elegance, with little reliance on rapid-fire Hawksian dialogue or frenetic staging. Even the film's climactic sequence, Tess's extended failure to succeed at preparing a good meal for her new husband, is rather languidly paced, despite the occasional piece of projectile toast.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Even most of the film's boosters admit that the ending, re-written after early test screenings sent the studio into a panic, is disappointing, if not outright disturbing. There was little doubt that Tess would have to change, but seeing the witty, courageous crusader tamed as the good housewife goes beyond the humbling Tess needs (as does Sam) into abject humiliation. It both provides an insight into gender perceptions of a very different era, and a reminder that some struggles are eternal, as Sam's “America First” attitude triumphs definitely over Tess's “globalist” agenda.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-HAxcEIPhLHo/WPeoUYzrmWI/AAAAAAAAB7A/97CVYysmygER6c5eQCxG-MV0BAaffvMwgCLcB/s1600/womanofyearcover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-HAxcEIPhLHo/WPeoUYzrmWI/AAAAAAAAB7A/97CVYysmygER6c5eQCxG-MV0BAaffvMwgCLcB/s400/womanofyearcover.jpg" width="283" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b>Video:</b></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The film is presented in its original 1.37:1 aspect ratio. There's the occasional tiny bit of damage visible in a few scenes, but this looks like it's been cleaned up quite well. The black-and-white contrast is strong throughout with a fine-grain structure that preserves that filmic look so well. Overall, it's a rich, pleasing image that should satisfy fans.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b>Audio:</b></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The linear PCM mono audio mix isn't very dynamic, but it gets the job done. Dialogue is clearly mixed, and the score by Franz Waxman (which I have to admit I found a bit overbearing at times) is well-treated. Optional English subtitles support the English audio.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b>Extras:</b></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Criterion has packed this disc with extras, though the heftier ones are older material.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Let's start with the new extras.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />A short interview (6 min.) with the director's son, George Stevens Jr., is more of an appreciation than analysis. Biographer Marilyn Ann Moss, author of “Giant: George Stevens, A Life on Film”, describes Stevens as “the Walt Whitman of American film” in a new 14-minute interview, by which she means he had a knack for identifying and diagnosing the root problem in whatever slice of America he was examining. The piece touches on how much “Woman of the Year” was changed by test audiences, and particularly the women who disliked Tess for being so darn uppity. The other new feature is an interview (20 min.) with author Claudia Roth Pierpoint discussing the career of Katharine Hepburn.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The disc also includes two feature-length documentaries, previously released on other DVD sets. “George Stevens: A Filmmaker's Journey” (111 min.) is directed by his son, George Jr., and features interviews with many of the director's colleagues (Frank Capra, John Huston) and cast members (Tracy, Cary Grant, etc.) It's fairly standard fare for a director documentary, but provides a comprehensive view of an expansive and sometimes overlooked career.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">“The Spencer Tracy Legacy” (86) min. is a 1986 documentary/tribute hosted and narrated by Katharine Hepburn, and does as good a job as possible of covering the bulk of Tracy's lengthy and busy career in under an hour and a half. It's even better than a baked potato, to be honest.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The extras wrap up with an old Trailer (2 min.) which really plays up the Tracy/Hepburn pairing.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The slim fold-out booklet includes an essay by critic Stephanie Zacharek.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b>Final Thoughts:</b></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">I'm still not sure I understand just why the Tracy/Hepburn pairing was seen as romantic comedy gold by audiences, but they are charismatic performers who make an uneven (though Oscar-winning) script work better than it should. This is where Tracy/Hepburn began, both on and off-screen, and Criterion has done a great job presenting the film in a lovely transfer and with a bountiful collection of extras.</div>Christopher Longhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05964148369227874063noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4956783167516082390.post-35387583171786825952017-03-27T10:33:00.003-07:002017-03-27T10:33:43.720-07:0045 Years<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-VLX9YynGjFM/WNlMrWbX5kI/AAAAAAAAB6c/mOPJ_PMoCh4x5_KJzGZrwqpiSvihrssegCLcB/s1600/45yearscap.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-VLX9YynGjFM/WNlMrWbX5kI/AAAAAAAAB6c/mOPJ_PMoCh4x5_KJzGZrwqpiSvihrssegCLcB/s400/45yearscap.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><b>45 YEARS</b> (Haigh, 2015)</div><div style="text-align: center;">Criterion Collection, Blu-ray, Release Date Mar 7, 2017</div><div style="text-align: center;">Review by Christopher S. Long</div><br /> <div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">In Andrew Haigh's relationship drama “45 Years” (2015), Kate (Charlotte Rampling) and Geoff (Tom Courtenay) Mercer while away their days in a pleasant if uneventful retirement in rural Norfolk; their main project is the preparation for their impending forty-fifth anniversary party with friends and family eager to help the happy couple celebrate their long journey together. It's quickly obvious that Kate is the calm, pragmatic planner in the marriage, but she didn't plan for the arrival of a letter that informs Geoff of a shocking discovery related to his past. His already eccentric behavior becomes increasingly erratic, and Kate's determined effort to unearth the reasons behind his deterioration will bring explanations, but not solace.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Level-headed Kate slowly but surely becomes increasingly rattled, though it's not easy to tell exactly why this particular news hits her so hard. Perhaps she's most disturbed by the unpleasant reminder that even an equilibrium established through forty-five long years of hard work and compromise can be so inherently unstable. Rampling earned a myriad of awards for her slow, simmering performance that never quite boils over, but still leads to a dramatic and definitive breakdown. I have to admit I didn't find her series of icy, increasingly hostile stares to be all that compelling, or even convincing, particularly in a final scene that felt forced to me, as if it was the one moment Haigh determined to work toward before planning anything else in his adaptation of David Constantine's short story, “In Another Country.”</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">On multiple occasions I wondered, “What in the hell is she so upset about?” The chorus of critical hosannas from around the world (at 97% on the Holy Tomatometer, “45 Years” was one of the most praised films of 2015) suggests I must consider the possibility that I flat out didn't get it, which has been known to happen from time to time. Perhaps it's just because I tend to be a lot less interested in dialogue-heavy, two-hander dramas than most viewers. A whole, whole lot less. Way less. However, I liked Haigh's previous film. “Weekend” (2011), also released by Criterion, so it'll just have to remain a mystery. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">It's not a mystery I'm terribly motivated to solve. I'll encourage you instead to check out the film's more positive reviews. You won't find any shortage of them.&nbsp;</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-d0pOl6X2jDw/WNlMxeXt-1I/AAAAAAAAB6g/u1nY4xwgMJ0Oi7MU0nSkGH4gigRFjIewgCLcB/s1600/45yearscover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-d0pOl6X2jDw/WNlMxeXt-1I/AAAAAAAAB6g/u1nY4xwgMJ0Oi7MU0nSkGH4gigRFjIewgCLcB/s400/45yearscover.jpg" width="283" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b>Video:</b></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The film is presented in its original 1.85:1 aspect ratio. As you would expect for such a recent film, the high-def transfer is practically immaculate, with razor-sharp image quality, and warm but subtle colors. No complaints at all on this front.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b>Audio:</b></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The DTS-HD Master Audio 5.1 surround track doesn't have to deal with much beyond dialogue so don't expect any revelations on the surround front. But it's a crisp, distortion-free mix which more than does the job. Optional English subtitles support the English audio.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b>Extras:</b></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Criterion has gone a bit light on the supplements, but what's here is good.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The film is accompanied by a 2015 commentary track (“courtesy of Curzon Artificial Eye”) featuring director Andrew Haigh and producer Tristan Goligher.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">“The Making of '45 Years'” (2016, 36 min.) combines interview with cast (Rampling, Courtenay) and crew (Haigh, Goligher, editor Jonathan Alberts, cinematographer Lol Crawley).</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Haigh adapted the film from author David Constantine's (very) short story “In Another Country.” In an interview (13 min.), Constantine talks about his story and his reaction to the film version.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">A Trailer (2 min.) rounds out the extras.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The slim fold-out insert booklet features an essay by critic Ella Taylor.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /><b>Film Value:</b></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">I'm confident that you'll like the film more than I did. And even if you don't, check out Haigh's “Weekend” which was also released by the Criterion Collection. </div>Christopher Longhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05964148369227874063noreply@blogger.com0